


Two Sides of the Same Coin

by bibliosoph



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: AU, Camelot, M/M, Magic, Medieval, Sorcerers, Swords, merlin ish, slow burn kinda thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 86,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24432658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliosoph/pseuds/bibliosoph
Summary: Alex has spent his whole life feeling out of place and paranoid. Growing up in a small village with a massive secret, he had to learn how to keep himself safe from harm and away from other people. Until he meets Henry.Henry is the Prince of Camelot, though he despises the title and all that comes with it. His brother, the King, is a tyrant and makes Henry feel like he isn't enough. He's all but sworn away true love or anything of the sort. Until he meets Alex.Brought together by magic and circumstance, the two find themselves constantly in the other's presence. But what will happen when that rocky relationship turns into a friendship? Will it then become something more?Loosely based onMerlin.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 248
Kudos: 163





	1. The Burning Man

Today marks the five year anniversary of the King’s most absolute decree. Five years since magic was banned entirely from the land of Camelot and, with that, five years of so-called peace. Though the ban has taken the lives of many in its never-ending battle to rid the kingdom of this “parasite” completely, magic still thrums in the bleeding heart of the kingdom. It is both ridiculous and impossible to claim to rid even a small area of magic, for magic is the lifeblood that holds the world together. Without magic, the world is shrouded in darkness and evil without hope of ever recovering. So, despite King Philip’s best efforts, magic does, in fact, still exist in Camelot. And the greatest warlock of all time, though he may not know of it yet, is on his way to the citadel with a friend by his side and an air of excitement and possibility around him.

It is a summer’s day––warm and sweet like honey. Their journey has been long, especially since neither of the two had a horse to take. While Alex’s mother may be a leader of sorts in their village, they are far from rich. The family has one horse which they all decided should remain in the village of Austin with Alex’s mother since, upon arriving at Camelot, there would be no need for a horse. Things in the citadel are closer together than they were in the country where Alex has spent his whole life. There are shops and taverns and new places that he’s eager to explore in sight. So close he can almost taste it.

“I’m excited to see June,” Nora says by his side.

Nora, Alex’s best friend, has decided to make the journey with him and stay for, at least, long enough to see him settled. They’ve sent word to June to let her know to expect their arrival and that Nora will be staying in her home for the time being. Since the home is small and Alex is supposed to remain in Camelot for quite some time, he’s living elsewhere. In his satchel, he carries a note from his father to an old family friend, a man called Rafael who happens to be the court healer. Though Alex does not know the exact reason why Rafael was decided to be his best guardian in Camelot, he’s hopeful that he will show Alex a great deal about medicine and, perhaps, what exactly goes on in the throne room.

“Me too,” Alex agrees. “I just…it’ll be safe here, right?”

Nora raises an eyebrow at him. “Safe?”

“For me, I mean,” he huffs, feeling a bit selfish for making this all about him.

Well, in some way, it is all about him. It is because of him and the way he is that his mother decided to send him here where, hopefully, he will be safe from farm. Though he loves Austin with all of his heart, it has been clear since he was a child that the people of Austin do not accept him so readily. Magic does that sometimes––it tears people apart instead of bringing them together. Alex wishes it didn’t have to be this way, though. He knows, deep in his heart, that his magic is not something cruel or violent. It never could be––not with him.

“I should think so,” Nora tells him. “Your mother’s smart, Alex. She wouldn’t send you here if she thought it would hurt you.”

He knows this, truly, but he cannot help but worry. Nothing in life has been easy or safe for him thus far, and he does not expect it to change so easily. “If someone finds out about my magic…”

Nora stops walking, turns, and sets her hands upon his shoulders. It’s unnerving when she looks him in the eye like this. “No one will know,” she assures him. “You’ll hide it just like you always have.”

He shakes his head. “Liam found out,” he reminds her. “That’s why he stopped talking to me.”

“That’s not why––you’ll be fine. I’ll look after you, okay? Just…keep your head down and don’t draw the attention of the Crown.”

He nods and pulls her into a hug. Though he knows that they will remain in the same place for some time, he cannot help but feel that this is the end of something. It’s just as it felt when June left for Camelot a year ago. It was a troubling time for all of them, but especially for Alex. Without June by his side, everything felt darker. Danger seemed to lurk in every corner. And then, on top of that, Liam stopped talking to him. Though his magic has always made him feel alone in some sense, the absence of June and Liam made that loneliness grow. It was how he understood what makes dark sorcerers dark––that feeling of loneliness. So he vowed to never let it affect his magic again. Vowed to stop using magic entirely unless absolutely necessary. He hasn’t used it since.

“I see the castle,” Nora tells him, pointing towards the distance.

Alex squints his eyes and sees it, too. Mighty and strong and jutting up over the hill with the crest of Camelot swaying on a red flag from a tall turret. He cannot help but smile at the sight of it, knowing that this is where he is meant to be.

When the reach the citadel, the people of Camelot are all moving towards the main square in front of the castle. Curious, Nora and Alex follow them down the cobblestone streets and to the square, only to find a pyre built in the center of it. Above the square stands the King or, at least, Alex assumes it’s the King. He’s dressed in elegant robes and wears a large crown upon his head, staring down at the common-folk like they’re swine. It makes Alex’s blood boil to see a King look upon his people like this. It makes his magic hum through his veins and fill him up, but he pushes it down again like swallowing bile. He feels Nora grab his arm, obviously sensing this. He takes a deep breath and silently watches.

“Today marks the five year anniversary of the outlaw of magic,” the King decrees. To his left stands a young man, around Alex’s age, with sandy blond hair and dressed in similar robes. To the King’s right stands a young woman who looks frightened and sick to her stomach. Since all three of them are wearing either crowns or circlets, Alex assumes that they are all part of the Royal Family. “As a demonstration, we shall watch yet another sorcerer burn for his crimes.”

On cue, two knights escort a man to the pyre and tie him up. He looks nothing like Alex would have imagined. He looks, well, normal. Just a man with a scruffy beard and a somber expression on his face as he is led to his death. The image sends a chill down Alex’s spine, though it very well could be the magic he senses instead of his own emotions. Sometimes, he finds it hard to tell the difference.

Once the man is secured, the knights bring a torch down upon the pyre, sending the entire thing into flames. Alex winces and looks away, unable to stand the sight for another moment.

As the man burns, Alex feels magic tingle through his body. It must be the man’s magic going out, because it burns unlike anything Alex has ever felt before. He can feel the fire licking his own fingertips, swallowing him whole. He falls onto Nora with his eyes screwed shut as he tries not to let out a cry in pain, for such a thing would surely give him away. Nora wraps her arms around him, letting him bury his head into her neck.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “You’re okay.”

He focuses on his breathing while the crowd around him gasps at the sight of the burning man.

“To honor this great achievement, I will be holding a feast to––”

“Monster!” someone screams from the crowd.

Alex opens his eyes and sees, in the distance, a woman pushing her way through the crowd as she cries out.

“That was my brother! And you––you killed him!”

For some reason, Alex feels a pang of guilt for her. Though it is not his fault her brother is dead, he feels terrible about it. Perhaps it is because Alex and her brother are connected through the bonds of magic, or perhaps it is because Alex cannot even imagine what it would be like to lose a member of his own family.

“Shame on you, Philip Mountchristen-Windsor! Shame on you! You will pay––you will all pay! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a brother for a brother!”

From the balcony, the King points at her. “Guards!”

But before they can even reach her, she goes up in a puff of smoke.

The crowd wanders away from the pyre, and Nora takes Alex to a darkened corner to soothe him. He’s still feeling it all––feeling the burning and the magic the woman used to disappear. He’s never been around other magic before so he’s never had to feel it like this. Is he even supposed to feel it like this? Is it supposed to fill him up so completely? It feels wrong. It feels like he’s dying.

“Shh,” Nora coos, rubbing her thumbs along his jaw. “It wasn’t you, okay? It was another guy. You’re safe, Alex. You’re okay.”

He shakes his head. “I could _feel_ it, Nora,” he says through clenched teeth as he tries to get himself under control. “I could feel him dying.”

She runs tentative fingers through his hair. “I know. I know, okay? But you’re not dying. You’re here with me and you’re safe.”

“Why did I feel it, Nora?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m a woman of science, not of magic. I can’t even begin to understand how magic works.”

“I’m fine,” he assures her, taking a deep breath. “I need to go find Rafael.”

“Do you want me to walk you there?”

He shakes his head, knowing that this is something he needs to do on his own. He kisses her cheek. “I’ll be okay, I promise. I––I’ll find you later, okay? Or you come find me. And bring June. I miss her.”

She smiles at him and steps back, adjusting the satchel upon her back. “I will. Promise. Be safe, Alex, okay? No magic.”

“No magic.”

She smiles at him and, just like that, Alex is alone again.


	2. Empty Threats

As soon as the people have cleared from the square, Henry follows Philip back inside the castle, his footsteps heavy and angry. He has seen his brother do many questionable things during his reign as King, but this is one of the most appalling so far.

“He was no murderer,” Henry huffs, trailing Philip. He’s so close that his feet nearly touch Philip’s red cape. “And yet you have him executed?”

Philip turns to face him, his eyes blazing. “He was a _sorcerer_ ,” Philip hisses, specks of spit landing on Henry’s face.

Henry sticks his chin out defiantly. “He hurt no one. His only crime was how he was born.”

For a moment, Philip glares at him and it reminds him so much of his grandmother––the evil one that Philip banished for sorcery. It frightens him to see his brother like this, truly. “Need I remind you what sorcerers are capable of? Shall we go visit Father’s grave?”

Henry’s lips tremble at the mention of his father and he knows that Philip has won this time. Yet, no matter how saddened he is by his father’s death, he knows that he could never be capable of holding as much hate as Philip is. He could never use his sadness to hurt other people, even on the worst days of grief. So he hangs his head and watches as the anger in Philip’s eyes returns to its normal ice and dismissiveness.

“That’s what I thought. Now go prepare yourself for the feast. We have lots to celebrate.”

With a flourish of his cape, Philip leaves Henry alone in the corridor. He’s trying not to cry because he knows that Philip is not worth his tears, but he feels miserable right now. The mention of his father brings him right back to the endless pool of grief inside of him, as does the memory of that poor man going up in flames. It angers him to know that death, in Philip’s mind, is a cause for some ridiculous and elaborate celebration. He hasn’t got a clue what they’re celebrating here––death? Ruining lives? While Philip might think that he’s gotten rid of magic in Camelot, the evidence says otherwise. If there was no magic in Camelot, there would be no need for such displays of power. There would be no pyres and no lives lost over it. So today does not mark five years of peace––it marks five years since the kingdom grew dark and vicious. And Henry wants none of it.

He retires to his chambers, hoping to stay there and alone until he’s inevitably forced to go down to the feast and pretend that his brother is some sort of hero. He slams the door behind him, letting out a groan in frustration as he wanders over to his bed and kicks the bed frame before flopping down onto the giant mattress. He removes his circlet, tossing it across the room and finds himself satisfied when he hears it _clink_ on the ground. He sighs and buries his head in a pillow, annoyed at himself for backing down so easily. He’s the Prince, for heaven’s sake. If he can hold his own in battle, he should be able to hold his own in an argument with his absolute knob of a brother.

There’s a knock on his door which elicits another groan from him. “Don’t enter,” he commands.

The door opens anyway and he looks up, ready to tell off whatever servant has just entered his chambers, but finds his sister there instead. All his annoyance fades to the background when she sees the fear in her eyes and the way she’s fidgeting with her hands nervously. On instinct, he sits up and gestures for her to come sit with him on the bed, eager to hear about whatever might be troubling her so he can ease her mind. She comes instantly, clearly relieved that he isn’t turning her away despite his foul mood.

“You look upset,” Henry notes, tilting his head.

“You––where’s your circlet?”

He gestures to the ground where, a few feet away from the window, the stupid thing sits on the ground. “I was sick of wearing it. I don’t much feel like being a member of the Royal Family today.”

Bea sighs and leans against him, putting her head on his shoulder. His arms instantly wrap around her to embrace her and let her know that he’s here and that he won’t let go. “That woman today…”

“I know, I know. I feel terrible for her. Her brother did no wrong––it’s not as if he committed an act of treason or tried to murder someone.”

“That’s not it,” she says, wrapping her arms around him, too. “She frightened me.”

He removes her circlet so he can run his fingers through her hair to soothe her. “Why?”

“Why?” she repeats, sounding annoyed. “Because she _threatened_ you, Henry!”

“It was just that,” he assures her. “Just a threat. She left in a puff of smoke, so it’s not as if she’s still here to see it through.”

Despite his words, Bea does not seem convinced. “She has _magic_ , Hen.”

He can’t help but scoff at her words. “I thought you didn’t mind if people had magic?”

“I don’t,” she says. It’s not quite a snap, but her tone is short and clipped and certain. “I believe that magic does not make someone evil, but she… _she’s_ evil. She said she wants to kill you.”

“I know, Bea. I was there, you know.”

Bea shoves him off of her and glares at him. “Then why are you not worried? Don’t you care about your own life?”

“Of course I care,” Henry huffs, not sure if he means it in this particular moment. “I just––I know nothing will come of it. When you are who we are, you learn to let such comments go. They’re empty threats and that’s all. They just want to scare us.”

“She seemed pretty serious. I can’t stand even the thought of losing you, Henry. You can’t just leave me with Philip.”

He brings her back in, hugging her. “I won’t leave you,” he promises. “I’m not leaving you. Everything will be okay, I swear it.”

They’re both silent for a moment, but Henry doesn’t mind the silence. These quiet moments with Bea are always a comfort to him because he knows that she does expect anything of him. She is the one person he can truly be himself around. There’s no pretending or hiding with Bea, and she’s always been there for him. Even in his darkest hours, she will always be there with open arms and eager ears, ready to listen to whatever he has to say. Though his mother has been practically self-imprisoned in her chambers since his father’s death and Philip went off his rocker when he was coronated, he knows that Bea will always be the one constant family member in his life. Without Bea, he doesn’t think he would have been able to survive losing his father or survive Philip’s attitude and cutting words.

“You should ready yourself for the feast,” Henry tells her, nudging her with his shoulder.

She laughs and kisses his cheek. “As should you. We have lots to celebrate, don’t we?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Oh, indeed. The killings and the taxes and outrageous laws. All certainly cause for the greatest of celebrations.”

“Don’t forget that we’re also celebrating the exile of our grandmother,” Bea adds.

“Of course. And Father’s death.”

“Philip really doesn’t think these things through, does he?”

Henry shakes his head, still smiling. “It’s treason to speak ill of the King.”

“It should be treason for him to be such a prick.”

Well, Henry doesn’t disagree. “Go get ready, Bea. I’ll come to your chambers and escort you when the time comes, alright?”

She nods and stands, making her way to the door.

“Oh,” Henry calls as she sets her hand upon the knob, “could you do me a favor?”

She turns and faces him. “Of course.”

“Could you ask your handmaiden to see the court physician about a sleeping potion for me? I sense that tonight will be hard.”

“You really need to get your own manservant,” she chides.

“Yes, yes, well, we all know what happened to the last one.”

She snorts at him as she tries to hold in her laughter.

“ _Beatrice_!”

“What? I’m sorry but it’s hilarious. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be able to find another one. A good one. You know, maybe one you won’t take to bed.”

His face goes bright red. He throws a pillow at her, hoping to get her out of the room. It works because, still laughing, she exits his chambers, leaving him alone to his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	3. A Prickly Prince

After spending thirty minutes helplessly wandering around the castle, Alex finally finds Rafael’s chambers. Next to the door is a wooden sign that says “court physician” so Alex knows that he’s in the right place. Knocking seems to slip his mind, so he instead just pushes the door open and lets himself in. The inside of the space is chaotic and unorganized with bookshelves built into the walls and a desk covered in various papers and bottles. There’s a man, presumably Rafael Luna, standing on one of the ladders by the shelves, putting some books back.

“Hi,” Alex says, closing the door behind him.

His presence seems to startle Rafael because he gasps and loses his footing on the ladder, falling backward. Alex scans the room and finds, in the corner, a bed. He focuses on it for a moment, willing it to slide across the floor and cushion Rafael’s fall. The old familiar feeling of his magic takes root in his stomach, warming him up from the inside. It feels like sweet, golden honey pouring through his veins. It feels like a summer’s evening in his village when the fireflies light the sky. It feels like coming home.

His magic does the rest for him, dragging the bed across the space and stopping right under Rafael, breaking his fall. He jumps out of the bed almost as soon as he’s landed, staring at Alex with wide eyes.

“What did you just _do_?” he asks, moving towards Alex. Frightened, Alex starts to back away but Rafael keeps coming at him, getting a fistful of Alex’s shirt and shoving him against the wall.

“Nothing,” Alex says, his heart beating so loud that he’s sure he can hear it.

“Don’t lie to me,” Rafael says, his eyes angry and terrifying.

“I didn––“

“You think I don’t know magic when I see it, kid? Where did you learn it? Who taught you?”

“No one,” Alex cries. It’s the truth. “No one––I was born with it, okay?”

Rafael stares at him for another moment before releasing his hold on Alex’s shirt and stepping back. “Who are you?”

Alex swallows and tugs his satchel off of his shoulder, digging around until he finds what he’s looking for. It’s the letter from his father that, apparently, explains everything. He hands it it to Rafael. “I’m Alex,” he says as Rafael takes the letter from him. “My father said you could help me.”

“Your father? Who’s your father?”

“Oscar,” Alex says, hoping it rings a bell.

Rafael’s face softens. “You’re Oscar’s boy?”

He nods because he doesn’t really know what else to say here. He doesn’t know his father well enough to have any sort of useful information to give out about him. For his whole life, his father has been some sort of shadow creature, simply lurking in corners. Never there unless there’s something wrong.

“You look just like him, now that I think about it.”

“Do I?”

Rafael raises an eyebrow at him. “You don’t see it?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never really met him properly. He’s never really been in my life.”

Rafael puts a gentle hand upon his shoulder. “I’m sorry, kid. He’s a good man. You should get to know him.”

Alex doesn’t say anything because he still doesn’t really know what to say when people talk about his father. It’s not like he knows him or has some real tangible memory of him to hold onto or compare things to.

“Sorry, I didn’t––”

“No, you’re good,” Alex assures him with a smile. “Uh, it’s okay if I stay here, right?”

“Of course, of course,” Rafael says taking the satchel and walking to a back room. “You can have the room. Any son of Oscar’s is always welcome in my home.”

Alex lets Rafael lead him to the small room in the back and watches as Rafael sets the satchel down on the small bed.

“I know it’s not much,” Rafael sighs, gesturing to the barren room, “but feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Are you kidding?” Alex laughs, sitting on the bed and running his fingers across the fabric. “I’ve been sleeping on a mat on the floor my whole life. The fact that I even have an actual bed is fucking amazing.”

Rafael smiles at him, looking proud or something. “Call me Raf, by the way.”

“Raf,” Alex agrees with a nod.

“Get comfortable, but if you want something to do, I can give you some chores to––”

There’s a knock on the front door, so Raf leaves to go see who it is. Alex watches him as he goes, wondering what he needs to do to get himself this kind of life. Maybe, if he does chores and such for Raf, he’ll get into the throne room. Maybe he’ll be able to make actual change happen here.

As soon as the door opens, Alex sees a familiar face. He’s on his feet in an instant, sprinting down the two steps to the main floor and then running across the room.

“The Prince wants a––” she doesn’t get to finish her sentence because Alex has launched himself into her arms, hugging her as he’s longed to do since she left. “Alex!”

“Hi, Bug,” he says into her shoulder, refusing to let any space in between them. She returns the hug with enthusiasm, pulling him closer. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she cries. “So much.” She pulls away to look at him with watery eyes and a giant grin. “When did you get here?”

“Just now, basically. Haven’t you seen Nora?”

She shakes her head and runs gentle fingers through his curls, pushing them back off his face. “I’ve been working. I’m still working now, technically, so I have to get going.”

“Why are you here if not to see me?” Alex asks.

“I was sent to get a sleeping potion for the Prince.”

Upon hearing this, Raf goes off to start making the potion and give them a moment alone. As soon as Raf’s back is turned, June looks worried instead of excited.

“You have to be careful,” she tells him, serious now. “If anyone knows you have…that thing, they’ll kill you.”

“He’s in good hands, June,” Raf says from his table where he’s pouring what looks like flower petals into some sort of liquid. “I’ll make sure no one finds out.”

June slaps Alex’s arm. “You’ve been here less than a day and someone already knows?”

He rolls his eyes. “He was gonna get hurt. I had to.”

“No more magic, Alex,” she warns. “I mean it. They’re very strict about it.”

He doesn’t say anything. How is he supposed to tell her that not using magic––keeping it so well-hidden that it feels hidden to him as well––hurts him? That it makes him feel like he’s burning up from the inside out? Life without magic is not a life Alex is interested in living. He’s been so good about not really using it, but it gets to him sometimes. He can’t imagine going a day without instinctively using it for something silly like preventing a mug from falling off the table. For Alex, magic isn’t something he can just shove down or hide. It’s a part of him––woven into his very being. And he knows that June just wants him to be safe, but he so desperately wishes that he could just tell her this. That she would listen and understand and tell him that everything will be okay. If Alex doesn’t use magic, he doesn’t know who he is. There’s no purpose to him being here without it.

He hugs her again, knowing that she’ll get in trouble if she stays too long. “I’ll be safe,” he assures her.

“And I’ll have Alex bring Henry the potion,” Raf says. “He’ll be doing some deliveries for me, anyway.”

“Good. Just…I’ll see you later. At the feast, if you want to come.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at her. “Am I invited to the feast?”

“You can be my plus one,” Raf chuckles.

“The feast,” June repeats.

“Yeah. See you there.”

As soon as she leaves, Raf gives him a box full of various potions and specific instructions for who they’re going to and what Alex needs to tell them about each one. From the looks of it, this will be a pretty long day. Especially since he has no fucking clue where any of these people live. The first stop, the one for the Prince, is pretty easy to find. The guards are helpful, maybe a little suspicious, but practically guide Alex to the Prince’s chambers. He knocks on the door and waits anxiously, knowing that he’ll have to hurry with the rest of these deliveries if he wants to get to the feast on time.

When the Prince opens the door, he’s not at all what Alex would have pictured. His blond hair is mussed and messy and his eyes look red and tired. Alex wonders if that death threat earlier is getting to him or something––if that’s why he needs the sleeping potion.

The Prince stares at him for a moment before frowning and taking a step back like Alex carries some sort of airborne disease. “Who are you and why are you here?”

Alex bites his lip for a moment, trying to calm himself down. “I’m Alex and Raf se––”

The Prince furrows a brow at him. “Raf?”

“Rafael Luna? Court physician?”

“Oh, of course. My sleeping potion. Can you give it to me, please?”

Alex rolls his eyes and rummages around the box until he grabs the bottle with the right label. He moves to hand it to him but the Prince looks down at it and shakes his head. He steps away from the door, pulling it open all the way.

“I don’t like being handed things,” The Prince says.

Alex can’t help but laugh as he steps into the room. “What, like your entire life hasn’t been handed to you?”

The Prince raises a scornful eyebrow. “You must be new here,” he tuts, “but I’ll have you know that you can’t speak to me like that. I’m the Prince––we are not equals. You are not my friend.”

Alex sets the potion down on the table in the center of the room. “Yeah, I got that. Don’t worry––I’m not into friends who are assholes.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Alex shrugs and faces the Prince, trying his best to look intimidating. “Look. I get the whole rich and holier than thou thing, but I’m not here to get some sort of lecture. I’m doing my friend a favor with this. But hey, at least now I know to never come back and give you another potion.”

The Prince scoffs. “Again, you can’t speak to me like that.”

“Sorry, Your _Highness_.”

“You should bow when you address a member of the Royal Family,” he chides.

Alex is seriously considering dropping something on this guy’s head. “I don’t bow. Especially not to people like you.”

Seemingly amused, the Prince smiles and leans back against the table. “And, pray tell, what kind of person am I?”

“A snob,” Alex hisses. “A guy who has never faced any hardship in his life and gets everything handed to him or––sorry, not handed because he doesn’t like that––on a silver platter.”

The Prince laughs at him. “You’re quite confident for someone I could have thrown in the dungeon.”

“You’re quite obnoxious, even for royalty.”

The Prince stares at him for a moment before pointing to the door. “If you leave now, I will forget about all of the treasonous things you’ve said to me. If not, I’ll have you thrown in the stocks.”

Alex feels his magic surge to the surface, tingling and racing under his palms. “I need to tell you how to take the potion first.”

The Prince rolls his eyes. “I think I can manage it without your help. Now leave.”

Alex huffs but goes to finish the rest of his deliveries with his magic pulsing through him while he walks. God, he fucking hates royals. He doesn’t understand how June puts up with them every day. He could never do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	4. Musings of the Infatuated

As soon as Alex is out of his chambers, Henry slams the door and leans against it as he attempts to catch his breath. If he closes his eyes, he can still see Alex here with those gorgeous curls and his sinful lips. Christ, this is bad. This is so very, very bad. It has been so long since Henry had feelings as big as these and even longer since those feelings were something so consuming and beautiful. Since the death of his father, all he’s known is pain and grief and heartache. There’s been some kind of hole in his heart that he had given up hopes of being filled until, that is, Alex just walked in here and told him off. No one ever speaks to a prince like that––no one would dare to tell a prince off even when he’s being an utter prick. No one, especially, would speak to a prince while looking so _good_. So beautiful and lovely and full of life. There’s something about Alex that Henry feels drawn to. There’s something in his nature that shines like a beacon, guiding Henry closer.

He shakes his head, trying to put a stop to such thoughts.

This is wrong. He can’t go down this road again for all that lies ahead is pain and trouble. The last time he let himself act upon feelings––even just weak ones, even just physical attraction––things ended in disaster. That was nearly two months ago and Henry still lacks a manservant because of his stupidity.

He wonders what Philip would do if he knew the truth about Henry. Would he see Henry’s romantic interests as treason? Would Henry be set upon the pyre to burn like so many have before him for smaller crimes? He isn’t foolish enough to think that his interests are magic in any sort of form, but he knows that Philip may not see it the same way. For Philip, the world is black and white. Magic is bad, people with magic must die. Love is a sort of magic to Philip––something he does not understand or see any sort of usefulness for. His own marriage will be with some princess or another––someone he will marry for the sake of the kingdom instead of because it is what his heart desires. Henry does not mind that this is how Philip views his own life, but he will be damned before he lets Philip make Henry make the same decision. When Henry loves, he loves completely. He will not stand to marry someone he does not love for the sake of the kingdom. If he marries, it will only be for love.

He just hopes that, somehow, Philip will respect his decision.

There’s a knock on his door and, for a moment, he fears that Alex has returned. What he fears more, though, is that he won’t be able to stop himself from doing something very, very stupid that he knows he’ll regret as soon as he’s done it.

“Enter,” he says, willing the emotion out of his voice.

The door opens and, thankfully, it’s not Alex standing there. It’s June, Bea’s handmaiden. He smiles at her and gestures for her to step into the space.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, June?” She starts to bow but he waves her off. “None of that. I’m not one to get strung up on titles and such.”

She beams at him and holds out her arms, showing him a pile of clothing. “Your sister said you might need help preparing for the celebrations. I just fetched these from the staff. Approved by the King, of course.”

Henry sighs and takes the clothing, looking at the outfit his brother has deemed appropriate to wear for tonight. It’s not as terrible as he imagined––a bit plain but not as bad as some of the demands Philip has requested. “Right. Thank you, June. I can––”

“Let me help you,” she offers. “You’ll need someone to help you with the fastenings.”

“Very well,” he agrees, taking his shirt off and discarding it on the bed. June grabs the shirt for the feast––a white one––and slips it over his head. “Thank you.”

She smiles and goes to fetch his trousers, so he takes off the pair he’s currently wearing.

“You know,” she says, helping him step into the blue trousers, “if you had your own manservant, this would be far easier.”

He buttons up the trousers and rolls his eyes playfully. “I thought you enjoyed helping me dress?”

“I’m just saying that it would be easier for you,” she says, grabbing his coat and helping him work it on.

“You’re probably right,” he agrees, “but I cannot seem to find someone up for the task.”

“You could ask my brother,” she says.

He raises an eyebrow as she slips a belt around his waist, pulling it tight and fastening it. “Your brother? I did not know you had a brother.”

“He only just arrived,” she explains. “I think you might have met him already, actually. Alex?”

His heart nearly stops at the mention of the name. He tries not to let his emotion show through, just as Philip taught him. He straightens his posture and focuses on his breathing, attempting to keep his face unreadable. “You’re right. I have met him. He dropped off a potion for me just a few moments ago.”

“He’s a hard worker,” June says, grabbing a pair of tall boots and crouching down to help him into them. “I should think he would be more than willing to help. He’s looking for work, I think.”

“I’m afraid he would not make a good fit,” Henry lies as he steps into the first boot. “He does not seem to share your grace and poise.”

June giggles as he steps into the second one. “He’s a free spirit. Always has been.”

“Yes, well, I could tell that much. Very…opinionated.”

June stills for a moment, thinking, before she sighs and fetches his cloak. “I hope he did not speak out of turn. He means well but he sometimes allows his emotions to get the better of him.”

“I know the feeling,” Henry whispers, mostly to himself.

If June hears him, she ignores him. After working here for nearly two years, she’s learned when to keep quiet and simply be a presence for the family instead of someone who asks questions. It’s one of her best qualities, Henry thinks. She seems to understand when to let people be with their thoughts until they’re ready to share them.

She fastens his cloak and takes a step back, admiring her work. “Now we just need your circlet,” she says, looking around for it. She finds it on the floor where Henry threw it earlier and smiles knowingly when she picks it up and puts it on his head. The weight of it makes Henry feel sick to his stomach.

“You look very handsome, My Lord.” He glares at her and she shakes her head, laughing. “Henry.”

She kisses his cheek before she leaves him alone again, presumably going off to help Bea prepare for the feast as well. In the time that remains until the feast, Henry sits at his desk and writes his thoughts down in a journal, hoping to make sense of these feelings somehow. Though he far from an artist, he draws a simple sketch of Alex’s face by his words, carrying it as a reminder that the drawing is as close as he will ever get to the man again. Christ, what would have happened if Henry had taken the potion from Alex’s hand? If their fingers had brushed? Would he have felt sparks shoot through him as he imagines he would have? Would he have been rendered more stupid than he was by the mere sight of Alex?

_Curse these lips_

_And the vulgar things that come from them._

_Curse my mind for imagining_

_Just what those lips might do to me_

_In different circumstances._

He tucks the thoughts away, leaving them to be dealt with later. For now, he has a feast he must attend.

He fetches Bea from her chambers, knocking on her door first in case she is still getting ready. She opens it immediately and Henry beams at her. It’s rare to see her dressed up like this since she prefers pants to gowns, but she looks absolutely stunning. He kisses her hand which makes her giggle at him.

“You look beautiful,” he tells her, offering her his arm.

She takes it. “As do you, Henry. Who knew you could clean up so well? Are you trying to impress someone, perhaps? A certain newcomer?”

His cheeks flush with the allusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. “And I would never dare to speak to someone else, not when I have such a lovely date.”

Bea giggles again and squeezes his arm as they walk, her silent way of telling him that she loves him and is happy that, even though everything is dreadful, they’re still alive and together.

The only family he’s truly ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr! come yell at me or give me prompts!


	5. To Save the Prince

When Alex leaves the Prince’s chambers, he goes to give the rest of the potions to the respective clients. There’s another one staying in the castle, so he goes there next since it’s closest. When he gets to the door, there are armed guards outside of it that don’t seem eager to let him in.

“Halt,” one says as he approaches the door. “What is your business here?”

“I was told this is where the Lady Helen is staying,” Alex says, looking at the list Raf drew up for him. “I have a tonic for her from the Court Physician. It’s for her…” he looks at the list again. “It’s for her voice.” What this woman needs a voice tonic for, Alex has no idea.

The guards look at him, then at each other, and then at him again.

“Look, fellas,” Alex says, “I’m kinda in a rush here. I have to get all of these delivered before the feast tonight.”

One of the guards sighs and knocks on the door, keeping his eyes on Alex. “My Lady,” he says, “you have someone here with a tonic for you.”

The door opens a moment later and a beautiful woman with brown hair and bright eyes is there, looking at Alex with a stony expression. Very much a noble, given the expression and her fancy clothing. She practically turns her nose up at him but sighs and opens the door completely. “Enter.”

Alex smiles at the guards before entering the room. It’s massive but not as big as the Prince’s chambers. There’s a four-poster bed against a wall and a collection of fruit baskets and flowers covering nearly every surface of the room. “You seem popular,” he notes as he moves over to the bit of free space on one of the tables. He sets down the box of potions and rummages through it to find the one he’s looking for.

“I’m here to sing for the celebration tonight,” she explains. “Now hand me my tonic.”

Alex refrains from rolling his eyes and finds the bottle, handing it to her. As he turns to give it to her, he catches a glimpse of her in the mirror behind her. Normally, it would be something that he would ignore but the woman in the mirror is not the woman he sees standing before him.

It’s magic. He can feel it. It must be a powerful enchantment to fool so many including himself, but he feels it now and he knows that she is not here simply to sing for the celebration. By the looks of it, she’s the woman from the square earlier today––the one who vowed to get revenge for her brother’s death. Revenge by killing the Prince.

He slams the box of potions shut as soon as she takes the tonic. “Well, best of luck to you tonight,” he says, turning towards the door. He doesn’t even wait for a response before he leaves her chambers, frightened of what she just saw and if there’s anything he can do to stop whatever she’s planning. Even though he thinks the Prince is an utter dickhead, he’s not going to standby and watch him get killed.

Alex doesn’t see Raf again until the feast and, as soon as he spots him, he marches over to him. He pulls Raf’s arm, begging him to join him in some suitable corner or another to have a more private conversation.

“Woah, kid,” Raf says as soon as Alex lets go of him. “What’s this about?”

“The singer,” Alex says, gesturing to the woman who has been brought in to entertain everyone for the feast tonight. “I saw her reflection.”

Raf furrows his brow. “Okay…”

“She’s––it’s the woman from the courtyard,” Alex explains in a whisper. “The one who said she was going to kill the King’s brother for revenge. She’s using magic, Raf. She’s going to kill the Prince.”

Raf stares at him for a moment, obviously unsure. “That’s a pretty serious accusation. You sure about this?”

Alex nods. “I felt it. The magic. I swear it’s true.”

Raf squeezes his shoulder reassuringly and nods. “Okay. I’ll see if I can figure something out. Just keep your head down for now, okay?”

Alex nods and watches as Raf goes off to talk to someone, maybe to alert them of the threat. Nervous and anxious, Alex decides that a glass of wine will help calm his nerves. As he goes to fetch one from one of the platters moving about the party, he locks eyes with the Prince. Eager to avoid that conversation, he grabs the wine and turns around in hopes of finding literally anyone else to talk to instead, but then he hears the Prince laugh at him and all bets are fucking off. He whips around and glares at him in his fancy and expensive outfit with his stupid circlet and Alex really wants to punch him in the face or something. His magic is buzzing under his skin again, itching for Alex to use it to wipe that smile off of the Prince’s face.

He clenches his hand around the goblet, holding it tight. “What do you want?”

The Prince raises an eyebrow and takes a step forward. “You’re the one speaking to me.”

Alex grits his teeth. He’s starting to forget why he thought saving this guy’s life was actually a good idea. “You were laughing at me.”

The Prince holds up his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t aware that laughter was a crime by your standards. Forgive me.”

Alex takes a step forward but someone holds him back. He turns and sees June there.

“Sorry, Your Highness,” she says, still holding Alex back. “He’s obviously had a little much to drink.”

The Prince smiles at her––at Alex’s fucking sister––and shakes his head. “I’m sure you’re right. Please see to it that he gets some water then, June. And what have I told you about calling me ‘Your Highness’?”

June fucking _laughs_ like this guy is actually _funny_ instead of stuck-up and arrogant. “My apologies, Henry. Please, go enjoy the feast. I’ll take care of him.”

The Prince––Henry––starts to walk away but Alex’s blood and magic are still boiling beneath his skin. “He’s just upset that I’m not obsessed with him like everyone else is. That I won’t bow before him and suck up to him.”

June groans from behind him and Henry turns on his heels, crowding up into Alex’s space. “You know what? I think you _are_ obsessed with me. And I think that, when the time comes, you _will_ be on your knees for me.”

Alex opens his mouth to say something but Henry is already walking away again, this time looking like he won’t turn around no matter what. Alex glares at him as he vanishes into the crowd, more upset and worked up than he has been in a while. He feels like he’s burning up––like his body is on fire from the emotions and the magic. June grabs a goblet of water and practically forces it into his mouth even though he hasn’t even had a sip of wine.

“You need to calm down,” she huffs. “You’re going to get yourself thrown in the dungeons.”

Alex rolls his eyes and hands the now empty goblet back to her. “How do you put up with that guy?”

“He’s actually very sweet,” she argues. “And I know that he’ll make a good king one day.”

Alex is silent, not knowing what to say to that. He doubts that the man he knows would make a good king at all. He’s a coward––he’s never had to fight for anything in his entire life. A ruler should have to overcome their own hardships before assuming the hardships of their people. Henry won’t understand the suffering his people face if he’s never suffered before like they have. How is he supposed to lead when he has no idea what it’s like for people out there? What people go through every day?

Alex opens his mouth to tell June as much but the King starts speaking.

“Honored guests,” he bellows with a grin, “I welcome you. Today we celebrate five years of peace in our kingdom with a feast unlike any other. And we are delighted to be graced by the presence of the best singer in the Five Kingdoms: Lady Helen!”

People erupt into applause as they take their seats to watch the singer perform. Alex stands off to the side, having lost sight of Raf. He wants to keep his eye on this singer, anyway. Make sure she doesn’t try to do anything to hurt anyone here. Even if that someone is Henry.

Her voice is truly lovely and, for a wonderful moment, Alex thinks that he got this all wrong. She’s just a beautiful woman with a beautiful voice here to celebrate with the kingdom. So he lets himself listen to her words sung in a tongue he does not understand. Lets himself simply enjoy this like he should have been doing the whole time. But then, a few seconds later, he feels it. Magic. Her magic. It’s cold and dark and it nullifies all of the fiery feelings of his own magic, making him feel frigid and frozen. He looks around the hall and sees the room start to grow dark as the people being to doze off.

She’s putting them to sleep with her singing––enchanting all of them so she has no witnesses.

He covers his ears as the room is overtaken in a mess of cobwebs, wondering if he’ll have the power to wake everyone up again.

The woman reveals a dagger from her breast and aims it at Henry’s sleeping form, and Alex knows that he has to do _something_ to stop her. He looks around the room for any sort of object that might be useful to him and sets his eyes upon the grand chandelier attached to the ceiling. He focuses his gaze on it, willing for the chain to break and fall on her. His magic fills in the gaps, doing the work for him. It falls upon her with a _crash_ and she’s knocked down and unconscious. The moment she’s on the ground, everyone starts to move again, obviously no longer under whatever enchantment she had put on them.

His victory is short-lived, though, for the woman stirs from underneath the chandelier and she retrieves her dagger, once again aiming it for Henry’s head. Alex stares at the dagger as it leaves her hand, willing for everything to slow down long enough for him to get Henry out of its path. His magic works as he rushes over to the grand table where the Royal Family sits. He shoves Henry out of the way, knocking all of Henry’s food on top of them as they fall to the ground.

“You saved my brother’s life,” the King gapes as Alex stands. He offers a hand to Henry to help him up but he does not take it. “You must be rewarded.”

“It’s fine,” Alex tells him, not wanting anything these people are offering. “Really.”

“No, do not be so modest. You shall be rewarded with a position in the Royal Court. You shall be his manservant.”

The room cheers as Alex looks over at Henry who looks very upset with this. “Philip,” Henry seethes.

Alex sucks in a shaky breath, wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	6. The Arrival of an Old Friend

It’s two weeks into Alex being Henry’s manservant and he still hasn’t quit. Henry has done everything in his power to make Alex miserable––he’s given him the most ridiculous of tasks, called upon him at all hours of the day and night, yet Alex stays. The feelings Henry has for him grow more and more with each passing day––with every time he has to look at his face or hear his voice. He’s considered insisting that Alex wear some kind of terrible helmet or hood so at least Henry doesn’t have to feel so much upon seeing him, but he knows that it would be of no use. Alex is indeed very beautiful, but that’s not the only thing Henry likes about him. It’s his personality, too. His heart and his stubbornness and his desire to make things better for the common folk of the kingdom. So even if Alex covers his face, Henry will still fall in love with him. Henry will still dream about his body at night, at what it might feel like to love Alex the way he yearns to.

Thankfully, this week is giving him something else to think about. There’s the yearly tournament coming up, the one where knights from the five kingdoms come and compete for the grand prize of a thousand gold pieces. As the Prince, Henry is expected to win as he has done every other year. The training is good for him, especially since Alex is his sparring partner these days. It’s strangely cathartic to hit him will dull swords––it makes Henry feel like he is stronger than he feels inside. That he doesn’t need to hold onto these feelings for Alex and let them control him. But then Alex takes his helmet and armor off after they practice and those curls come bouncing back into view and Henry is rendered speechless once more. The tournament, he thinks, will be a good distraction for him. He’ll only see Alex when Alex helps him into his armor.

He watches from his window as the slew of knights pull up in the courtyard, dismounting their horses as they’re escorted to guest chambers within the palace. Alex is in here, too, busying himself with tidying up. Henry has made a point to leave his chambers in terrible condition in hopes that it will annoy Alex into quitting, but nothing has happened thus far.

“Are you excited about the tournament?” Alex asks him.

Henry turns away from the window with a sigh. His chamber is almost completely clean again. “I suppose. It shouldn’t be much of a challenge, though.”

Alex laughs as he bends down to pick up a lone shoe under Henry’s bed. With his back turned to Henry, Henry can’t help but linger on the sight of his beautiful ass in the air. He feels his entire face go red and hot. Surely it shouldn’t be possible for someone to have a figure as beautiful as Alex’s. It’s a crime––he should be hanged for having an ass like that. An ass that drives Henry to insanity as he tries to keep himself from going over there and just kissing Alex senseless so he can feel that flesh beneath his own.

“Aren’t you scared?” Alex asks as he stands.

“Scared of what?”

“The tournament. Sharp swords and all of that.”

Henry rolls his eyes at Alex’s lack of knowledge. It makes sense, he supposes, since he knows Alex hails from a small village that does nothing of this nature. “The swords are blunt. It’s not a fight to the death––it’s a way to prove your strength and bravery.”

Alex nods in understanding as he moves the shoe to the wardrobe, tucking it inside. “Let me guess: your brother is all about you winning. Proving yourself, right?”

Henry takes a shaky breath. “Don’t speak of him in such a way,” he hisses. “You have no right to assume you know how it is to run a kingdom.”

“I mean, yeah, but neither do you.”

Henry glares at him, knowing that he’s right. “Go polish my armor,” he demands.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Alex tells him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Henry glares at him and Alex gets up. “I know June and Beatrice talk about stuff. They’re friends.”

Henry scoffs at him. “We will never be friends,” Henry tells him. “You are simply here to do as I wish. And what I wish for you right now is to go and polish my armor so I can be ready for the tournament tomorrow. And I wish for you to return later to help me prepare for the feast to welcome the knights.”

Alex does not reply, thankfully. Instead, he grunts and fetches Henry’s armor to go and polish it as requested. As soon as Alex is out of the room, Henry sits at his desk, emotionally exhausted from behaving in such an appalling manner. If only he could tell Alex how much he yearns to know him. If only he could tell Alex that he cannot be friends with him because not being more than friends would surely break his heart. It’s an impossible situation, he thinks. And Alex has shown no signs of being interested in Henry in any sort of romantic or physical capacity, so there’s nothing Henry can do about it. He won’t force Alex to touch him––he won’t make him feel like he has no choice. If, by some miracle, Alex learns to love him, too, Henry wants it to be of his own volition.

There’s a knock on his door and, even though he’s exhausted, he allows them to enter. “Come in,” he calls, still seated at his desk.

Bea enters with a wide, mischievous grin on her face. “Someone’s requested to see you,” she beams.

Henry raises an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself? Can I have them come in?”

He shrugs. “I suppose.”

She opens the door and a familiar face appears with a smile on his face. Henry is on his feet in an instant, crossing the floor and throwing himself into his arms. “ _Pez_ ,” he cries as he wraps his arms around him.

Pez laughs and Henry feels it reverberate through his whole body. “Henry, darling, it’s been too long.”

Henry can’t help but cry a bit at the sight of his friend who he hasn’t seen in what feels like years. How long has it been since they fought side by side? How long has it been since Henry last saw his best friend in the entire world? Christ, he didn’t even realize how lonely he was without Pez here. It’s so good to see him that Henry feels, even for a moment, that the hole in his heart has filled in a bit around the edges.

“What are you doing here?”

Pez feigns offense. “Am I not one of the noblest knights in all the land? Pity, I thought I could kick your arse in the tournament.”

Henry rolls his eyes and shoves his shoulder playfully. “You say that like you’ve ever defeated me.”

“Maybe this will be my year, hm?”

“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” Bea says, leaving them alone.

Henry leads Pez over to the fireplace, gesturing for him to sit down on the elegant couch. He sits down next to him, still overwhelmed with happiness. Until, that is, someone else enters the room.

“I forgot your––Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company,” Alex says from the doorway, looking at Pez.

Pez, ever kind, jumps up and shakes Alex’s hand. “I’m Sir Pez,” Pez says with a dashing grin. “Who might you be?”

Alex opens his mouth to speak but Henry cuts him off, not daring to move any closer. “He’s my new manservant, Alex. So new, in fact, that he’s clearly never learned how to knock.”

Pez frowns at Henry and Henry feels terribly guilty for treating Alex like this in front of Pez. Pez will probably give him a stern talking to about it later, but for now, Henry just wants Alex to leave so he can be with his friend and forget about his romance troubles.

“I forgot your boots,” Alex says, moving to the wardrobe. “Thought you might want them polished for the tournament.”

“Will you be watching?” Pez asks him, following Alex over to the wardrobe. “And, if you are, will you cheer for me?”

Alex smiles at him and the smile is so bright that Henry has to close his eyes and look away from the sight of it.

“He won’t be watching,” Henry snaps. “He’ll be in my tent, waiting to help me out of my armor when I return.”

Alex shrugs at Pez, seemingly apologetic. “I’ll root for you in spirit,” Alex tells him. “You seem like the kind of guy I’d like to see win this thing.”

Alex leaves quickly after that, seemingly afraid of what Henry might say to him for such a comment. When Alex leaves, Henry expects Pez to turn and yell at him for treating someone like that. Despite Philip, Henry was raised to be a good man. He was not raised to treat people, even manservants, in such an appalling manner.

“When were you going to tell me?” Pez asks, rejoining him on the couch.

Henry raises an eyebrow at him. “Tell you what?”

“That you’re in love with your manservant?”

Henry blinks at him, not sure what to say to that. “I…I’m not––”

“Don’t deny it, darling,” Pez smiles. “You would never talk to someone that way if you weren’t trying to protect yourself from feelings. And I think you’ve got a bit of drool, by the way. Which sort of made it extremely obvious.”

Henry rolls his eyes and wants to fight him on this, but Pez is right and it feels so good to talk about it with someone. Holding onto these feelings has been absolute hell for him. Christ, it’s just so nice to have his best friend back. “I’m falling for him,” Henry admits. “Which is utterly daft and ridiculous but…”

“But you can’t help it,” Pez finishes it for him. “I get it. I mean, he’s _gorgeous_. If you don’t make a move, I might.”

Henry shoves him. “Don’t threaten me, Pez. We both know you’d win that duel.”

Pez shakes his head. “Actually, I don’t think I would. I think he likes you, too.”

Henry laughs at the thought. “ _Please_. He hates me.”

“What gives you that idea?”

“The backtalk, for one. And he said he would rather see you win which is a pretty obvious sign that he thinks ill of me.”

“He’s just trying to get under your skin,” Pez counters. “He wants your attention, even if he doesn’t know that he wants it in a romantic way yet.”

It’s a nice thought, but Henry won’t hold out too much hope. Even if Pez has some sort of uncanny ability to read minds, he knows that anything with Alex is both a bad idea and a long shot. From the first moment they met, Henry has been nothing but cruel and unkind to him. There’s no chance that Alex could ever look past how Henry’s treated him––there’s no way that Alex will ever see Henry the way Henry sees him. This might be making him miserable right now, but he knows that he’ll be even more miserable if something ends up happening between them and then inevitably ending poorly because of his status. It’s easier to just give up on it––to keep Alex in his heart and mind where he can’t fuck this up.

“Tell me about you,” Henry suggests, changing topics. “What have you been up to since we last saw each other?”

So Pez tells him about the various adventures he’s been on since they last saw each other––he tells Henry about the creatures he’s encountered and the people he’s saved. Henry listens intently, imagining himself in Pez’s shoes. Imagining that he’s the one riding through far off lands on missions to do the most good he can do. He thinks, if he could do that sort of thing, that he might be able to consider himself a real prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	7. The Dragon's Call

Alex lies awake that night and thinks about Henry. He’s been working his ass off for Henry these past few weeks but Henry has been nothing but rude and unkind to him. Some of the tasks Henry demands of him are so small and stupid that it makes Alex want to rip his hair out. When Henry gives him things to polish or wash, he’s just grateful that he can take the things back to his own chambers and use magic to get the job done. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to survive this stupid job without his magic.

He can’t sleep tonight because he’s too annoyed with Henry to even close his eyes. Sir Pez seemed nice, though, and it makes Alex wonder how someone as bitchy as Henry becomes friends with someone as nice as Pez. If Alex could choose his employer, he thinks he would choose someone like Pez. Someone good and nice and someone who doesn’t treat him like he’s worthless.

Maybe he _is_ worthless, though. Maybe even his magic doesn’t make him important. What is the point of Alex having magic if there’s no real use for it? Surely he wasn’t given these gifts just so he could polish boots quickly. There has to be a reason for this, right? Maybe his father would know. The way his mother speaks about Oscar makes Alex think that he knows more about why Alex is this way than his mother does. Maybe that’s why his father left them––to protect Alex from something. Maybe that’s why Alex has never gotten to know him or speak to him. If that was the case, would it make Alex feel better or would he still feel rejected? Abandoned? He doesn’t know which hurts more––not knowing enough or knowing too much.

 _Alex_.

He bolts upright, confused by the sound. It’s not something that’s coming from near him––it’s happening in his head. Is this actually someone trying to speak with him or is this just a trick his exhausted mind is playing on him?

 _Alex_.

The voice sounds familiar to him, though. Like something from a dream. It’s deep and has an accent that he’s sure he has heard before but can’t quite place.

 _Alex_.

Well, he’s certainly not going to sleep now.

He gets up, grabs his jacket––the leather one that his father left for him––and a pair of boots. He steps out of the room and finds Raf hunched over his work table, working on some sort of potion. Raf looks up at him when he enters, surprised that Alex isn’t asleep.

“Why are you up?” Raf asks. “And where are you going?”

“Out,” Alex says, trying to move straight to the door.

Raf blocks him from leaving. “Kid, I’m supposed to be looking out for you. You gotta tell me where you’re going.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m just…meeting someone.”

 _Alex_.

“Meeting someone? Meeting who?”

“I––I don’t know, okay? It’s gotta be someone with magic. They’re…I hear them in my head. I have to see who it is.”

Raf’s eyes widen. “In your head? You’re sure?”

Alex nods, slightly confused now.

 _Alex_.

“That’s not someone, kid. There’s only one being with enough magic here to do that sort of thing, and it’s not a human.”

“Then what is it?”

“A dragon.”

Alex can’t help but laugh. “Didn’t the King kill all of the dragons? Wasn’t that part of his whole getting rid of all of the magic thing?”

 _Alex_.

“All but one,” Raf explains. “And he’s locked beneath the castle in a prison he can’t escape.”

Alex frowns at him, not sure what all of this means. “So you don’t think I should go?”

“He’s not gonna stop calling for you,” Raf sighs. “But you need to be careful, okay? Dragons can be tricky. Selfish.”

Alex nods along, still not really sure what this means. “Right…I’ll be careful. Promise. I’ve got my magic to protect me if something happens.”

Raf moves away from the door, letting Alex leave.

 _Alex_.

True to his word, he’s careful as he makes his way through the dark castle and past the guards. He uses magic to get himself past the ones in the dungeons before going even lower. The voice gets louder as he walks down the flights of stairs, so he’s pretty sure he’s going the right way. He’s especially sure when he gets to the base of the stairs and finds himself in a giant cave with a chain coming out of the rocks below him.

“Hello?” he calls, hearing his voice echo off the jagged rocks. “Who are you?”

There’s a rumbling followed by a gust of wind as a dragon appears from the depths of the cave and sits on the rock across from him, its golden eyes staring at him intently.

“Alex,” it says. The way the dragon says his name makes him feel warm inside. It feels like he’s met this dragon before, but he knows that can’t be possible.

“Who are you?”

The dragon laughs, its gold body moving with the laughter. “I’m a dragon.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Okay, yeah. Why did you call me here, then?”

“I knew you had come to this land,” the dragon bellows, “and I wanted to see you. You’re such a small man for such a great destiny.”

Ignoring the shot at his height, Alex raises an eyebrow. “My destiny? What do you know about my destiny?”

“Everything! I know everything. I have watched you your whole life––looked out for you. And now the time has come for me to tell you what I know.”

“Who _are_ you?” Alex demands again.

“My name is of no importance,” the dragon tells him. “The only thing of any importance is that you listen to what I tell you next.”

Alex sighs, annoyed that he’s being given so little information. “I’m listening.”

“Prince Henry is the Once and Future King,” the dragon tells him. “He is the one who will bring back magic––who will unite our lands.”

Alex laughs at him, he can’t help it. “Henry _hates_ magic,” he corrects. “His entire family thinks it’s evil.”

“They may think that now, yes. But it is you who will change his mind. Without you, he cannot succeed. Without you, all hope is lost.”

Alex thinks about it for a moment, thinks about the man the dragon speaks of. A brave king does not seem to be within Henry anywhere. It doesn’t seem possible for Henry to change so much––to change enough to bring peace and magic to the kingdoms. “Is that why I have magic?”

“Yes. And your magic will help you. But you must first learn how to control it––how to use it well.”

There’s something blooming in Alex’s chest at the thought that there’s actually a purpose to him. That he was given these gifts for a reason. “Can you teach me?”

The dragon shakes its mighty head at him. “I cannot. If you tell your mentor that we’ve spoken, he will guide you. He will put you on the right path.”

“And what do I have to do? To help Henry? He won’t listen to me or talk to me, so how the hell am I supposed to help him unite the kingdoms?”

“That, young warlock, is for you to discover.”

With those parting words, the dragon flaps its great wings and disappears, leaving Alex alone. Even when Alex calls for him, the dragon does not come back. Stumped and confused, he leaves the pit and returns to Raf’s chambers to tell him what happened and, hopefully, to get his help. If he has a destiny, a real purpose on this earth, then he wants to fulfill it to the best of his ability. He won’t let himself fail, even if that means he has to put up with Henry and be nice to him.

When he stumbles back into Raf’s chambers, he’s tired and confused. Raf sits him down and fetches him a glass of water, waiting until Alex is ready to start talking. When he’s ready, he tells Raf about everything the dragon said, still feeling like he might be going insane for listening to a fucking dragon. For some reason, everything Alex tells him doesn’t seem to surprise him one bit. It’s almost like he was expecting this sort of thing, like he knew that Alex would end up talking to the dragon and hearing about all of this. He’s so prepared, in fact, that he presents Alex with an old book like he’s just been waiting for Alex to say the word.

“What is this?” Alex asks, turning it over in his hands.

“A book of spells,” Raf beams. “You’re gonna need it, kid.”

Alex tackles him into a hug, feeling somehow more at home than he ever has before. He has a purpose, he has a mentor, and now he’s one step closer to finding out who he really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	8. A Mighty Blade

It’s a warm, sunny day and perfect for the start of the tournament. All of the knights are gathered in the gravel arena, complying with the routine sword check before Philip makes his opening remarks. While he drones on, Henry can’t help but smile because, against all odds, Pez is by his side again. They’ll probably have to fight each other, but since they’re using dull blades, Henry doesn’t see it as anything more than good fun. Though Pez thinks his chimera slaying or whatever has given him the upper hand, Henry is eager to show him just how hard he’s been training in his absence. Henry must win this tournament. It’s what’s expected of him.

When the remarks are over and the first two knights remain in the arena to compete, Henry wanders off to find his tent so Alex can prepare him for his first fight which is next. On his way to the tents, someone bumps into him and nearly sends him careening towards the ground.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” the knight says, keeping his arm on Henry’s to keep him steady.

He’s a larger man––broad-shouldered and tall with a good deal of muscle. He’s got dark hair and even darker eyes and there’s something extremely familiar about him that Henry can’t quite place. “No worries,” Henry says, taking a step back. He looks down, awkward as ever, and notes the man’s sword sheathed into his belt. “Beautiful blade.”

The man looks down at the sword and grins. “It was my father’s. He used it in such tournaments when he was my age.”

Henry smiles and starts to push past him so he can get to his tent and prepare for the long day ahead. “Well, best of luck to you in the tournament,” he says. “May your father’s sword bring you good luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” the man says from behind him.

Henry pays him no mind and continues down the grassy path to his tent, shoving the flap open when he arrives. Alex is inside already, clearly waiting for Henry to give him a command. He’s not dressed up in Camelot colors for the event which he probably should be, given the fact that he’s the Prince of Camelot’s manservant. Henry does not comment on it, however, because he wants to try to be nicer to Alex. If Pez is right, he’ll need to stop being a dick if he ever has a chance of winning Alex’s heart.

“Who was that man you were talking to?” Alex asks him.

Henry frowns, confused for a moment. “I––Were you spying on me?”

Alex puts his hands up in surrender. “Of course not. It was a loud conversation right by the tent.”

Something warms in Henry’s chest at the thought of Alex knowing how to find Henry’s voice in a crowd, but he shoves the feeling aside. “He was a knight, here to compete in the tournament. I haven’t seen such a crest before, so I don’t know where he comes from. Why?”

Alex shrugs and leans back against the table set up with a pitcher and goblets. “Just curious. This is my first tournament.”

Henry smiles weakly and goes to grab his sword. “First of many. The King insists on having them frequently. Something about spirit.”

“Who do you fight first? Sir Pez?”

“Sir Fredwin, actually.”

Alex snorts and Henry raises an eyebrow at him. “What? Fredwin isn’t a real name.”

Henry sighs as he sheaths his sword. “It’s a nobility thing, the complicated names. If I had to guess, he was named after both a Sir Frederick and a Sir Edwin. Pass me my helmet.”

Alex moves off the table and fetches Henry’s helmet. He starts to hand it to him before he pulls his hands back. “Oh, I forgot. You don’t like be handed things, right? Should I just––”

“Just hand it to me,” Henry huffs, still embarrassed about their first meeting. He takes the helmet and puts it under his arm. “When I return––”

“Yeah, I know. Have everything ready.”

Henry nods and puts his helmet on, giving Alex one last glance before he heads for the arena.

The fight between him and Sir Fredwin is short––Henry wins in a landslide. Sir Fredwin may have muscle on Henry, but Henry has agility, speed, and intellect. One of the only reasons he’s still alive today is because he’s been able to outsmart his opponents. When he wins after only three minutes, the crowd cheers for him and waves their banners in Camelot’s colors. He looks up at the only person he cares about right now––Philip. As soon as he sees Philip smile and clap, he knows that he’s done a good job.

*** 

Alex disobeys Henry and goes to watch the duels, eager to see why people find this sort of thing so entertaining. He stands off on the sidelines as to not be spotted by Henry and, most likely, fired for disobeying his orders. But something happens when he watches Henry fight. Something that makes him understand why people like watching this sort of thing, even if it can get pretty gruesome.

The thing about Henry with a sword in his hand is that he becomes a different person. As simply the Prince, he’s arrogant and shallow and unsure of himself. When he’s fighting, he’s pure confidence. Even from such a distance, Alex can see the gears turning in his head––he can see Henry calculating his next move before his opponent has even finished striking. Thank God both of their helmets came off near the beginning because, Christ, does Henry look good. His hair is mussed and his forehead is sweaty but he looks glorious out there. He looks more comfortable than he’s ever been in his entire life. He looks almost like a different person entirely––a person that certainly doesn’t need Alex’s help to unite the kingdoms. He could do it all on his own if he always acts as he does with a blade in his grip.

When the fight is over and Henry’s announced to be the winner, Alex goes back to the tents to prepare Henry for the next round. On his way back to Henry’s tent, he finds a sword lying on the ground. He figures that must happen a lot at such events, but something draws him to it. _Magic_. He bends over and picks it up by the blade, knowing that all of the swords are dull and unable to cut anyone. Knowing this, he’s surprised to find the blade slice through his fingers, drawing blood.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dropping the blade.

“What do you think you’re doing?” someone asks from behind him.

He turns and sees the knight that Henry was talking to earlier––the one that creeped Alex out. “I found it here,” Alex says immediately. “I thought someone would probably be looking for it.”

The man glares at him and bends down to pick up the sword, taking it by the handle. “Yeah, me.” 

Alex blinks at him for a moment, watching as he sheaths it. “Is that your sword for the tournament?”

“What’s it to you?”

Alex opens his mouth to say something––probably to ask him how this blade passed inspection when it’s clearly extremely sharp, but someone claps him on the shoulder.

“Alex,” the person says. He turns his head to the right and finds that Sir Pez has strolled up. “Can we help you, Sir Basil?”

The other knight––Sir Basil, apparently––shakes his head and walks away. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Pez turns to Alex and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Why were you messing with a knight?”

“I wasn’t,” Alex explains. He goes to rub his forehead but then remembers the blood dripping from his fingers.

Pez’s eyes widen. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, I––”

“Come on,” Pez says, guiding him towards Henry’s tent. “You stay here while I go get the physician, yeah? That looks deep.”

Pez leaves him alone in the tent as he goes to fetch Raf. Alex looks down at his fingers and notices that, yeah, the cuts are pretty fucking deep. Too deep to be made by a normal blade, let alone a dull one for this tournament.

The flap opens again and Alex expects it to be Raf and Pez, but it’s not. It’s Henry.

“Fetch me my––” Henry’s eyes zero in on the cuts on Alex’s fingers, the ones dripping blood onto the ground. “Christ, Alex, what happened?”

Alex opens his mouth to speak but then the flap opens again, this time with Pez and Raf entering. Raf removes his satchel from around his shoulder and squats down in front of Alex, taking Alex’s bloody hands into his own.

“Shit, kid,” Raf says, looking at them. “These are deep––you’re lucky you didn’t get your fingers sliced right off. What happened?” Raf reaches into his satchel, probably looking for something to stop the bleeding.

“Sir Basil…his sword.”

Everyone looks at him like he’s gone insane. Even Raf stops rummaging around his satchel for a moment to blink up at him.

“What do you mean?” Henry asks.

For a moment, Alex wants to say something sarcastic and rude, but Henry’s still pink-faced and sweaty and he can’t seem to bring himself to say anything mean or snarky right now. Plus, his hand hurts. A lot. More than it should, probably. It’s bleeding more than it should, too. It must be part of whatever enchantment he felt on the sword––whatever spell is making it appear dull but cut so deeply. Of course, he can’t tell Pez and Henry that he knows it’s magic because he simply felt it there. He’d be killed for treason.

“It looked dull,” Alex explains. Raf starts wiping the blood off. “I grabbed it and it––it somehow sliced right through my fingers. I can’t explain it.”

Raf looks up at him for a moment, a curious glint in his eye, before he pulls out a vial and drops the liquid onto Alex’s hands.

“There are no sharp blades allowed in the tournament,” Henry huffs, crossing his arms. “You must have been mistaken.”

Pez glares at Henry and Alex can’t help but smile at the sight of it. “I believe Alex,” Pez says. “I was there, too. Sir Basil seemed oddly protective of his sword.”

Alex nods in agreement only to wince in pain as the liquid from the vile seeps into his skin, burning him. “Jesus, what _is_ that?”

“Something to clean the wounds,” Raf tells him, wrapping gauze around his hands.

“Could the blade be enchanted?” Pez asks.

Henry glares at him. “There’s no magic in Camelot.”

Alex swallows nervously. “It could be,” he says.

Raf looks at him, eyebrow raised. “Could it?”

He nods, knowing that Raf will understand what he means. Raf nods back, a silent acknowledgment that they’ll talk about this later when Henry and Pez aren’t around.

“Magic is everywhere, Hen,” Pez says. And, for a moment, Alex can't help but think that Pez is looking right at him. 

Alex snorts. “ _Hen_?”

“Shut up, Alex,” Henry seethes, turning red. “Look, I’ve got to get ready for my next fight. Alex is clearly in no state to help me, so…”

“I’ll do it,” Raf volunteers, standing up and tucking everything away in his satchel. He sets a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “We’ll talk later, okay? Go watch the tournament.”

Alex does as he’s told, shooting a worried look back at Henry before he leaves. If he’s right, Henry could be in danger. That means he needs to figure this out and _fast_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	9. Failing Prince Henry

Though Henry would like to think his own matches cause quite the stir, the real drama happens while he’s preparing for his next one, having made it through to the final round after beating Pez and two other knights. Pez is over by Alex now, watching as the tournament unfolds. Whoever wins this match, the one between Sir Basil and Sir Jonah, will go on to fight Henry in the final. He’s watching them to prepare, studying how each of them move so he can know their weak spots and how to defeat them. Sir Basil seems to have the upper hand now, backing Sir Jonah into a corner. Henry watches anxiously, wondering who will win. Sir Jonah goes down and Sir Basil is announced the victor––Henry’s competition in the final.

Rafael Luna rushes onto the dueling ground, calling out to Alex to help him get Sir Jonah back to his chambers so Rafael can examine him. Henry watches as Alex helps lift the fallen knight and carry him off the arena, knowing that he’ll go see how Sir Jonah is doing as soon as he’s free to go.

“Tomorrow at noon,” Philip bellows from the Royal Box, “we will see which man is the strongest: Sir Basil or Prince Henry!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, mostly for Henry since they’re his people, and then Henry leaves in search of the physician’s chambers. When he arrives, June is there, too, keeping a cool towel over Sir Jonah’s brow while Raf mixes herbs together.

“How is he?” Henry asks when he enters. Alex instantly looks up at him, his brown eyes terrified.

“We’ll have to wait and see, Your Highness,” Raf says, pouring the herb mixture into a bowl and stirring it.

“Do you know what happened?”

“He’s bleeding,” Alex hisses, shooting Henry a glare that makes Henry feel incredibly guilty. He looks down at Alex’s bandaged hands, at the deep wounds there. Henry should have believed him. Why didn’t Henry believe him? This is clearly magic––no one is supposed to get truly injured during these tournaments. That’s why they use blunt swords.

Henry moves across the room and over to Alex who is sitting useless on a cot in the corner. His bed, perhaps. Maybe’s Raf’s. Henry sits down next to him, watching as June and Raf work on stopping the bleeding.

“I should have believed you,” Henry tells Alex. He means it, truly. He feels miserable for not believing him.

Alex doesn’t say anything, just looks down at his bandaged hands.

“Do they hurt much?”

Alex shakes his head, his curls bouncing with the movement. “You get used to it after a while.”

Henry sighs, unsure of what to say. It pains him to see Alex like this––rendered useless by such injuries on his hands. Part of Henry wants to kill whoever is responsible, but the more rational part of him knows that he cannot bring Alex justice without significant evidence against Sir Basil first. To accuse a knight of such a thing with no proof would do no good.

“Do you think we can prove it?” Henry asks.

Alex looks up at him, shocked. “Prove what?”

“That Sir Basil used an enchantment,” Henry explains. “If you can find proof, I’ll stand by you. I can request an audience with Philip, but only if you have significant, tangible proof.”

“I can do that,” Alex promises. “If you get an audience with him, I can find something.”

“Sir Jonah might be a good place to start,” Raf tells them, applying some sort of herb paste to Sir Jonah’s wounds on his now bare chest. “If I can heal him and wake him up, he can attest to it.”

“The word of another knight should make the King listen,” June agrees. “Also, Alex, could you come here? I want to reapply some of this to your hands, too.”

Alex shoots Henry a soft smile before moving over to Raf and June in the center of the room. June undoes the bandages on Alex’s hands which, as Henry now sees, are red on the inside.

“You’re still bleeding,” June says.

Henry stands and moves over to get a closer look. “That’s impossible,” he whispers.

Clearly, though, it’s not impossible. When he looks down at Alex’s bare hands, they look just as bad as they did when he first got them. Maybe worse, if he’s being honest. The gashes are still gushing blood and the wounds look almost like they’re growing as time passes. The sight of Alex like this makes Henry sick––it makes him want to pull Alex against his chest and protect him from everything. If the sword is enchanted, this is more proof that magic is evil. This is proof that no magic can be trusted. He should have told Alex that sooner––he should have warned him of these evils. Maybe he could have protected him, somehow.

“Raf, look at this,” June says.

Raf comes over and looks down at Alex’s hands, frowning as soon as he sees them. “That’s not good. It looks like the magic is still effecting him.”

“What can we do?” Henry asks, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“I––I don’t know. I’ll look into it, okay? For now, you should get out of here, Your Highness. Go get an audience with the King,” Raf instructs.

Henry nods and goes, silently praying that both Alex and Sir Jonah make miraculous recoveries. If Alex doesn’t survive this, Henry is scared of what he might do to Sir Basil.

*** 

As soon as Henry leaves, Raf turns to Alex. “You need to use magic,” Raf says.

Alex stares at him for a moment, completely confused. “Magic for what?”

“To heal yourself. To heal Sir Jonah.”

June shakes her head, clearly not agreeing that magic is the right choice. “Magic is what started this mess,” she huffs. “What makes you think more magic is the answer?”

“The sword’s damage can’t be undone with medicine,” Raf explains. “If magic caused this, magic is the only way to fix it.”

Alex nods and thinks back to the light reading he’s done from the book––tries to think of any spells that might be helpful for healing. He closes his eyes and recites a spell, hoping that he’s recalling the right spell. When he opens his eyes, his hands are as good as new. He takes the bandages back all the same, wrapping them around his hands like they were before so Henry doesn’t suspect anything.

He moves over to Sir Jonah, knowing that June and Raf are watching him as he does. He closes his eyes and repeats the spell and, instantly, the wounds close on his chest and his breathing returns to normal. Raf and June pull him into a hug, thanking and praising him. Though it’s nice for his magic to feel appreciated, he knows that there’s still more work to do before this is all over. They’ll need Sir Jonah to wake up and testify that Sir Basil used magic, and they’ll need Sir Basil’s sword. It might get a bit complicated, but Alex really doesn’t care how hard he has to fight in order for the King to see what’s going on here. If they don’t win this fight, that means Henry has to fight him tomorrow.

And, if Henry has to fight him, Henry will certainly lose.

Their presence is requested in the Throne Room only a few minutes later, so Raf and Alex go while June waits with Sir Jonah while he comes to. They can get things going until the witness comes into testify.

When they enter the Throne Room, Henry is standing in front of the King who has Bea to his side, watching this unfold. Sir Basil is here too, holding his sword out before the King. The King looks up at Raf and Alex as they enter, clearly a bit perturbed that a mere servant is the one behind this accusation.

“Prince Henry has told me of your accusation,” the King says, glaring at Alex. It makes him feel small and weak to be looked at like this.

“It’s our accusation,” Henry says, sticking his chin out. “Alex has my full support.”

The King all but rolls his eyes. “Of course. And what, exactly, is this accusation?”

“We believe Sir Basil is using magic,” Alex says, taking a step forward. “We think he’s using an enchanted sword that appears dull to the eye but can cause serious injury in action.”

The King raises an eyebrow, intrigued, it would seem.

“It cut Alex’s hands,” Henry chimes in. “Nearly sliced them off completely.”

Alex holds up his bloody bandages on his hands to illustrate.

“Very well,” the King says. “Let me see this sword.”

Sir Basil hands the sword to the king who takes it in his hands. Alex watches anxiously, expecting the blade to cut Philip like it cut him and Sir Jonah. Oddly, though, nothing happens. There’s no cry in pain or even a drop of blood. Henry looks at Alex nervously and Alex doesn’t even know what to say––he knows that the sword is enchanted. Not only did he feel the magic, but he saw it with his very eyes. It nearly sliced his fingers off––it nearly killed Sir Jonah. It ’’t make sense––it has to be a different sword or something.

“It’s a dull blade,” the King announces, “with a chip in it because of its age. Is there any other evidence you have to support this ridiculous accusation?”

“Uh, yes. We have a witness, ” Henry says, moving towards Alex. “Where’s Sir Jonah?”

The door to the Throne Room opens and June comes in looking nervous and upset. Alex rushes to her instantly, wanting to relieve her of this tension. “What’s wrong?” he asks in a whisper. He feels Henry and Raf come up beside him, all curious.

“He’s dead,” she tells them. “I don’t know how, but he’s dead.”

Alex closes his eyes and groans, frustrated that their plan isn’t working. How could he be dead? Just minutes ago, he was alive and drinking water to gain some his strength back. Alex healed him with his magic––he should be alive. How is this possible?

“It seems that the witness is dead,” Henry says, turning back to Philip.

Sir Basil laughs at them. “Then, Your Highness, I propose this all be over. If your brother is simply too scared to fight me, he can withdraw.”

“You’re using magic!” Alex yells, unable to stop his anger from rising in his chest and making him shout. “You’re going to kill him!”

“Guards!” the King shouts, pointing at Alex. “Escort this servant to the dungeon!”

Henry’s eyes go frantic as he sees Alex getting yanked away from the guards. “Wait!” he cries. “Please, Your Highness. This was a misunderstanding, I assure you. He meant no harm, it was just a mistake. Please let him go.”

The King ponders this for a moment before making a gesture that, apparently, makes the guards let Alex go. As soon as they release him, Henry grabs him and drags him out of the room as the King makes his apologies to Sir Basil. When they’re in the hall, Henry presses Alex up against a wall, tightening a fist in Alex’s shirt.

“You embarrassed me,” Henry growls. “You humiliated me in front of the entire Court.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex tells him truthfully. “It’s not my fault Sir Jonah died.”

Henry scoffs. “You were the one who insisted it was magic, Alex. Of course it’s your fault.”

Alex shakes his head. “Henry, I swear. I know he is––I’ll prove it. You can’t fight him or he’ll kill you. Please just give me tim––”

“No,” Henry says, releasing him. “I don’t want to hear another word about this. I––Your services here are no longer required.”

Alex blinks before he realizes what Henry is saying. “Pl––”

“Get out of my sight,” Henry says.

Alex goes, knowing that there’s nothing he can say to make any of this better. Even if he’s fired, he’s still going to find a way to save Henry’s life. Even if Henry hates him again, he’s still going to do whatever he can to reveal the enchantment and make everyone see the truth. Even if Henry doesn’t want to see him again, Alex won’t fail. Saving Henry––protecting him––is what he was born to do. And he’s not going to just sit back and let Henry die, no matter what. Henry doesn't get to just die––not when Alex can save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	10. The Enchanted Blade

As soon as Alex gets back to his chambers, he pulls the book out from under his bed and flips through it desperately, hoping to find some spell or another to help him fix this. The book is full of all sorts of random spells––spells for cleaning and healing and even sailing––but he can’t seem to find one for revealing that a fucking sword is enchanted and that its owner clearly wants to kill the Prince. Still, he keeps flipping through the book until someone knocks on his door. He throws the book under his bed, hoping that maybe it’s Henry here to see him and tell him that he’s sorry and that Alex can have his job back. When he looks up as the person comes in, it’s not Henry at all. It’s Raf.

“Hey, kid,” Raf sighs as he enters.

Alex hasn’t got the damned time. Henry fights at noon tomorrow––he needs to find a spell and get it to work. He needs to fix all of this. “I can’t really talk right now,” Alex huffs, grabbing the book again and flipping through it.

“What are you looking for?”

Alex looks up at him. “A spell to reveal that the sword’s enchanted.”

Raf nods and sits on the edge of the bed, watching Alex as he returns to flipping violently through the pages in hopes of stumbling across something useful.

“I was thinking about it,” Raf says. “I think the sword needs magic to be activated. That’s why it didn’t hurt the King.”

Alex frowns because, well, it doesn’t make any sense. If there’s some sort of incantation you have to use to make the sword sharp, then why did it hurt Alex? He certainly doesn’t know the spell to do that, so how did his fingers nearly get sliced off? He shakes his head, dismissing the thought. “It cut me and I didn’t know the spell.”

“But you have magic,” Raf reminds him. “Very powerful, instinctive magic. You’ve been doing magic without incantations since you were a baby, right? So your magic just worked.”

Alex shrugs because, really, it doesn’t even matter now. It does’t matter how the sword works, only that it does. It only matters that it’s enchanted and that Alex is the one who has to show everyone that before Sir Basil kills Henry out there. It’s perfect, too, because it will probably be ruled off as an accident.

“I’m going to go see if I can find an answer about Sir Jonah,” Raf tells him. “See if I can figure out why magic didn’t save him. While I’m doing that, you might want to try asking the book about what you’re looking for.”

Alex opens his mouth to ask him what that means, but Raf is gone. Alex looks down at the book, wondering what exactly Raf meant. If he just opens his mouth and tells the book what he’s looking for, what will happen? Will anything even happen at all? Maybe this is some sort of prank or something. It’s probably just going to make him look stupid. Even if it is a prank, it’s one he’s willing to play along with. He hasn’t got the time to flip through every page of this book and speed read each page to see if it’s useful. He needs to figure this out––he needs to ask the book, even if it doesn’t actually do anything for him.

“Revealing spells,” he whispers into the pages.

He stares down at the book for a moment before the pages start flipping with remarkable speed, stopping on a page near the end. He looks down at the revealed page and sees, clear as day, three separate revealing spells. There’s only one that reveals enchantments on objects, so that’s obviously the one that Alex goes for. He stares at the words, processing them, then goes to find an object to enchant so he can practice revealing the enchantment.

When he goes out the main room where Raf is, Sir Jonah is cut open.

“Jesus,” Alex says, covering his eyes at the sight. “Give a guy some warning next time.”

Raf, who is now at one of the tables not occupied by a dead man, looks up at him. “I figured it out,” he says, gesturing for Alex to come over. Alex does and finds Raf staring at what looks like a piece of metal.

He wonders if he should be worried about Raf’s sanity. “It’s…metal.”

Raf rolls his eyes. “It’s from the sword,” Raf explains. “It was in Sir Jonah which is why he must’ve died. It was still enchanted inside of him since it broke off––it was killing him from the inside.”

Suddenly, Alex recalls King Philip saying something about a chip in the sword. A chip that wasn’t there when Alex first saw the blade. If the sword is prone to chipping, that means a piece could break off inside of Henry. So, even if they heal Henry’s wounds, Henry will still die because a piece will still be in him. The thought makes Alex even more determined to figure out how to reveal the enchantment.

“I found a spell to reveal the enchantment,” Alex tells him. “I need to practice though––make sure I get it right before I risk it.”

Raf sets a hand upon his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You got this, kid.”

Alex nods and finds an old sword lying around, hoping that this will work.

*** 

Henry takes a deep breath as he looks at himself in the mirror. It would’ve been easier to get ready if he still had Alex here to help, but he sent him away. He still doesn’t know if that was the right choice––maybe it was too harsh. Still, though, part of him knows that it was the right decision. Alex’s misplaced certainty humiliated Henry in front of Philip and the Court. It made him look like a coward that just wanted a way out of the fight.

Well, no more. He will fight and he will win. He has to win––the kingdom expects him to win as he’s done every year he’s competed. Even if he dies trying, he has to do this.

There’s a knock on his door. He sighs and puts his helmet down on the table, moving to open the door. He’s hoping it’s not Alex because he really doesn’t think he could face him right now after what happened. If Alex comes in here looking as beautiful as he always does, Henry won’t have the nerve to resist him. He’ll cave immediately and probably beg for Alex’s forgiveness which he knows won’t do him any good.

It’s Bea, though. And she looks like a nervous wreck. “Can I come in?”

He nods and opens the door for her, closing it when she enters. “What’s wrong?”

She looks at him and shakes her head like he shouldn’t have to ask. “You can’t fight Sir Basil, Hen.”

He sighs and sits down on the bed, Bea sitting next to him. Normally, her presence is comforting to him, but now it just makes him antsy. He knows that she’s going to try her best to talk him out of fighting, and he knows that he’ll want to give in just to make her happy. Though he loves her dearly, she doesn’t understand what it’s like for him here. She’s a Princess and therefore has more freedom than Henry does. She’s not next in line for the throne––she’s not used to Philip telling her exactly what to do. She doesn’t have to earn the people’s respect like he does, especially because he knows that if the people found out who he really was, they would never respect him at all.

“I have to,” he tells her. “I’m sorry, Bea, but I have to do it.”

“But he’s using an enchanted sword,” Bea reminds him.

Henry rolls his eyes. “That was Alex’s idea.”

“And you don’t believe him?”

He sighs because he doesn’t know what to say. Does he believe Alex? He wants to, certainly. He’s got a massive, embarrassing crush on him so of course he wants to believe everything he says. And he knows that Alex is good––that he isn’t trying to get Henry hurt or embarrass him in front of the Court. And maybe Alex truly believes that the sword is enchanted, but it’s not a belief that Henry can share right now. If he keeps believing that, he’ll convince himself to withdraw.

“No,” he says, making the decision right now. “I don’t.”

Bea scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Why? Because he’s a servant?”

“You know that’s not why,” Henry sighs. “I can’t believe him because what if, by some chance, he’s right? What if he’s right and I ignored him and I die today in that arena because of it?” He pauses. “I hate this life, Bea. I hate being a prince and having to hide who I really am. If I die in that arena, it will be because it’s what I’m meant to do––not because of magic.”

Bea, probably knowing that Henry has made up his mind, gets up and makes her way to the door. “You’re not meant to die this way,” she tells him. “You’re going to be a great king one day. I know that. So don’t let magic and what happened to our father make you make a decision you’ll regret.”

She leaves him to get ready after that, and he’s grateful to have a moment to collect his thoughts before heading down to face his destiny.

Sir Basil looks all to pleased that Henry showed up which doesn’t make Henry feel any better about this. As soon as the duel starts, he sees Alex standing by the sidelines, leaning against the stands and watching intently. Nervously, even. Henry tightens his grip on his sword as he takes his stance, ready to go down with a fight if he must.

Sir Basil makes the first attack, swinging his sword right at Henry’s head. Henry ducks and counters, delivering a blow to his stomach. Sir Basil growls and starts coming at Henry with everything he’s got, leaving Henry no time to do much except counter his blade. Henry’s moving backward across the arena, just trying to keep himself alive for the time being before he figures out his next plan of attack. He swipes at Sir Basil’s feet, but he jumps out of the way and comes back at Henry harder than before. Henry puts all of his strength into trying to separate Sir Basil from his sword, trying to make him drop it. If he can get the sword out of his hands, he’ll have a much better chance of taking him down.

But Sir Basil seems to be made of strength right now, and his blows keep coming. Henry feels his back collide with the stands and he knows that he’s trapped.

“Fitting, this,” Sir Basil says, pressing into Henry’s space with their swords between them.

Henry’s hands are shaking. “What?”

“You humiliated me,” Sir Basil seethes, “when you led me on just to fire me.”

Henry stares at him, into his eyes. He recognizes him at once, though he looks so much different now. Bigger, hairier, stronger. Underneath it all, he’s still the same manservant Henry had a fling with then promptly fired. “George?”

Sir Basil––George, as Henry knew him once––grins. “Now it’s your chance to be humiliated, Henry. Just like I was.”

Henry closes his eyes, bracing himself for the feeling of the sword entering his chest. The feeling never comes, though. Instead, the crowd gasps around him. He opens his eyes and finds Sir Basil’s swords glowing. Magic.

Alex was right––the sword was enchanted.

Henry takes this moment to knock Sir Basil out, hitting him over the head with the handle of his sword. The sword clatters to the ground as Sir Basil falls unconscious, dust rising as he hits the floor.

The crowd erupts in cheers but Henry doesn’t care about any of them. His eyes drift to the sidelines where he sees Alex there looking relieved and tired. As soon as Henry’s eyes meet his, he looks away. It makes a rock of guilt settle in Henry’s stomach for how he treated him, especially now that he knows Alex was right. Even if Alex wasn’t right, Henry knows that he should have stood by him––should have showed Alex that he cares about him and that he can be trusted. As soon as Henry sees him again––preferably not when he’s still in full armor and standing in the arena––he’ll apologize.

As he does every year, he donates the thousand gold piece grand prize to a family he’s pre-selected. This year it’s a family of farmers who had their land set ablaze when thieves came in from the north. Their youngest daughter, Leisa, comes down to the center of the arena to collect the box full of gold. Henry gives her a hug and tells her to look after her family when he gives it to her, which makes her smile and promise that she will. It’s his favorite part about winning––giving the money to someone who actually needs it. He wishes he could give more, though. He wishes that there was more he could do to help people like Leisa and her family.

When the tournament is truly over and the money has been given, Henry heads to his chambers and prepares a bath for himself. He’s capable of it, though it does take him quite a while to remember where the water pump is.

The hall is decorated in Camelot’s colors for Henry’s victory and all of the knights––save Sir Basil––from the tournament are here to celebrate their accomplishments. There’s wine and food and mead and, for once, the world doesn’t seem so bleak. Henry finds it easy to talk to the knights about their recent quests and journeys, positively thrilled to hear their tales of heroism across the land. It makes him feel like he should be doing more, though. Like there’s more world out there for him to help however he can, whether that be through gold or with his sword.

“Glad to see you’re not dead or anything,” someone says behind him.

He turns and sees Alex there, his curls lush and his eyes nervous.

“I’m also glad I’m not dead,” Henry chuckles.

Alex smiles softly and looks down at his boots, clearly unsure if he should stay or go.

“I should have believed you,” Henry tells him. “I should have listened to you and not let Philip scare me. You were right and I know that it wasn’t your fault Sir Jonah died. You were only trying to protect me.”

“Yeah,” Alex sighs.

An awkward silence settles on them.

“My chambers are a bloody mess,” Henry says, “and I had to make my own bath today.”

Alex doesn’t say anything––just stares at him with those beautiful brown eyes that make Henry’s face go red.

“Do you think you could clean it tomorrow?”

“You fired me,” Alex says, smirking.

Henry rolls his eyes dramatically. “Yes, well, now I’m rehiring you. As I said, my chambers are a mess.”

Alex laughs.

It feels so good to hear him laugh again––to be close enough to see the happiness play out on his face.

“Whatever, Your Highness.”

Henry shakes his head and nudges his shoulder. “Please,” he requests, “call me Henry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	11. An Unexpected Visitor

When Alex stumbles home from the feast, he’s deliriously happy. Not only is Henry still alive, but Alex has been reinstated as Henry’s manservant. To most other people, the job might seem grueling and unrewarding, but it’s fantastic news for Alex. If he’s still Henry’s manservant, he can keep a better eye on him––keep him alive and help shape him into the King that he believes Henry can become one day. He didn’t see past Henry’s defenses at first, but he does now. And what he sees is a man who has a difficult family situation but is trying his hardest to help as many people as possible. Alex saw the way Henry’s eyes lit up when he gifted that farm girl with the gold from his tournament winnings and, quite frankly, he’s never seen anyone look happier than Henry did in that moment. That’s the man Alex wants to be King someday––the man who will unite the kingdoms and restore peace and magic.

Raf is still at the feast, but Alex needed a breather, so he gets home first. Today has been a long day and he wants nothing more than to just crawl into bed and sleep for a day and a half. His old magic––his purely instinctual magic––was never this exhausting. New spells, it seems, take a toll on him.

When he arrives at the physician’s chambers, the door is ajar. He was the last one to leave––he knows that he closed it. He puts his hand out, ready to face whatever threat might lurk inside with his magic. He looks around the dark space and sees, faintly, the outline of a woman on the ground. She’s lying limp in the center of the room, unmoving. He uses his magic to light the candles to shed light upon this intruder.

It’s not an intruder at all, though.

It’s his _mother_.

“Mother,” he cries, running to her and dropping to his knees. He pushes her over so he can see her face and, when he does, he regrets it.

Her face is bloody and bruised and her hair is matted with blood at her forehead. It’s the worst he’s ever seen her––hardly able to even move. He puts her head in his lap, feeling tears sting his eyes as he looks down at her.

“Alex…” she says, blinking up at him with tired eyes.

He shakes his head and puts his hands over her heart, muttering the healing spell he learned to treat his own injuries. She stares at him while he works, probably confused about how he knows actual spells now instead of just his own instinctual magic. The magic works, though, and as soon as it gets a hold of her, most of the bruises and marks go away. There’s still blood on her, but it’s not coming from any wounds.

“What happened?” Alex asks her, helping her sit up.

“Our village was attacked, sugar,” she tells him. “A group of men came and asked for our crops.”

Alex growls at the thought of his poor mother standing up to a group of thugs looking for crops. Their village has so little as it is, so giving any of their harvests to thugs would mean people in the village go hungry. He opens his mouth to say something about it when someone enters the room.

“Alex, could you––”

It’s Henry. He’s probably here to ask Alex to do a chore for him or something. As soon as he sees Ellen, though, he stops speaking and rushes over to them.

“Who is this?”

“My mother,” Alex tells him.

Henry frowns and crouches down on the ground. Alex registers Henry’s hand on his back, rubbing calming circles on it and he can’t help but blush at the feeling of Henry’s soothing hand on his back. It feels nicer than he would have expected––it’s helping him get his breathing and thoughts under control.

“I’m Prince Henry,” Henry tells his mother.

His mother’s eyes go wide. “Oh, Your High––”

“Henry will do,” Henry tells her with a nervous smile. “Could you tell me what happened? Maybe I can help.”

“Our village was attacked and raided,” she explains, her voice shaking. Alex reaches out for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as she presses on. “They said they’ll return in a few days time to take the rest of it. If they do, the children won’t survive. They don’t know hunger like some of us do.”

“Why come here? From what I know from June, your village resides in a different kingdom,” Henry asks, his voice soft.

“Because I thought my son could help,” she admits, looking at Alex.

He knows how to read between the lines. It’s a curious statement since she’s told him to conceal his magic for most of his life. Though he loves his mother and knows that her concern for him is justified, it’s always hurt him that she’s reacted so poorly to his magic. He gets it, he really does, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. It hurt when he was a child and had no idea what any of it meant and all he was told was to keep it inside. It hurt when everyone in his family made him hide who he really was and looked at him like he was different––in a bad way. Now that he’s older, he understands their reasons to some degree, but even loving and understanding where they came from can’t take away the feeling that he’s alone, sometimes.

“Where’s Leo?” Alex asks.

“Still there,” his mother sighs. “We decided only one of us should come here and that the other should stay and try to keep things together.”

Both Alex and Henry nod in understanding.

“Henry, do you think you could go get June? And maybe some water for her?”

“Of course,” Henry says, standing.

Alex feels colder without his touch steady on his back.

“I’ll also get a room set up for you,” Henry tells Alex’s mother.

“I could––”

“I insist,” Henry beams. “Prince’s orders. You’ll be staying in the castle.”

Ellen smiles at him. “Thank you, Henry. Truly.”

Henry smiles down at her before he leaves to go get June and water. As soon as the door closes behind him, Alex turns back to his mother and helps her up, guiding her to a seat at one of the tables. He crouches in front of her, taking her hands into his own, and stares up at her with big eyes and open ears. He’s already itching to do something––to go and fight these men that threaten his village. First, he needs her to tell him it’s okay to do it. He needs her to tell him that he can go and use magic to solve this and that she’ll still love him.

She cups his jaw in her hands, tears coming to her eyes while she looks at him. “Sugar,” she says, “I’ve missed you.”

Alex feels more tears prick his own eyes. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I’ve been so worried about you,” she admits. “I didn’t know if you’d really be safe here.”

“I’m safe,” he assures her.

She laughs slightly, her eyes still shining. “And you’ve got fancy, Royal friends.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes. “I work for him,” he says with a smile.

“You and I both know that’s not it,” she says, ever wise and observant. “He cares for you.”

Alex opens his mouth––probably to say that Henry cares for everyone and that he’s not special––when the door opens. June, Raf, and Henry burst into the room. Raf and June make a beeline for Ellen while Henry stands by the doorway to give them space. Alex lets June and Raf have their time with Ellen, moving over to stand by Henry and watch the tearful reunions with a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Henry tells him in a whisper.

Alex looks to him, his brows furrowed. “Why are you sorry?”

Henry shrugs. “I don’t know. I…I feel terrible for you and your family––for what your mother’s had to go through. No one should have to endure that sort of thing.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alex assures him. “And you’re helping. So…thank you. You didn’t have to.”

Henry stares at him for a moment, those blue eyes swallowing Alex whole. “Of course I did,” he admits.

Alex doesn’t know what to say. He thinks back on his mother’s words––that Henry cares for him. The feeling fills him with warmth, bubbling up from somewhere inside of him like magic. If he lets himself believe that Henry truly cares for him, it will be a lie. Henry may care for the Alex he knows––the snarky manservant with bright, mischievous eyes––but he knows that Henry could never care for the _true_ Alex. There’s a part of him that he has to keep secret and he knows, no matter how caring and considerate Henry is, that that part of him will ruin whatever they have if it comes to light. Maybe he’ll let himself give in to the fantasy of it all––the fantasy that a Prince could befriend a commoner like himself.

But the one thing he’ll always know is how deeply Henry’s family hates magic.

And, no matter what Henry feels about him now, Henry’s hatred of magic will trump whatever warmth he feels for Alex in this moment.

“We should get her upstairs,” Alex says loudly.

June, Raf, and Ellen all turn to look at him.

“She’s had a long day,” Alex continues. “She needs rest.”

Beside him, Henry nods. “Indeed. I’ll secure an audience with the King tomorrow to see what we can do for your village.”

“Can you really do that?” June asks.

“I think so. I am the Prince, after all.”

They chuckle, all probably unsure of what to say to this generous offer. If the King agrees to hear them out and even help them, maybe Alex doesn’t have to carry this weight on his shoulders. Maybe he doesn’t have to use magic to solve this like he thought he would. Maybe he can live to see another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	12. Reading Your Language

To say that Henry is nervous would be a complete understatement. There’s so much riding on this––he feels like he’s drowning in fear of it going wrong. Though he loves his brother, he knows that he has many, many faults. One of the most prominent ones being listening to and helping others, especially if it does not benefit him directly. Calling this audience with him was already a long shot, but getting him on their side seems nearly impossible. Henry will be damned if he doesn’t at least, try though. For Alex. Christ, he can’t even begin to imagine what Alex must be feeling right now. If their roles here were reversed, Henry doesn’t know what he would do with himself. For once, he’s almost happy that his mother has practically banished herself to her chambers because, there, she’s at least safe from harm.

He takes a deep breath and looks at himself in the mirror one last time, convincing himself that he can do this. He just needs to go in there and make Philip see sense––show him that there are people that they can help.

Alex, June, Rafael, and Alex’s mother are already there when Henry arrives. There’s another young woman there, too––one he’s seen with June recently.

“Good,” Philip says when Henry enters, “you’re here. Now we can begin. What business do you bring before me today, brother?”

Henry looks over at Alex. He can’t help it––he’s drawn to him. And Alex looks back at him with big, nervous eyes. Behind all of the nerves, Henry swears he sees a flicker of hope pass through Alex’s eyes when he looks at Henry and Henry looks back. It’s the only thing he needs to stick his chin out and prepare himself for a fight. So long as Alex believes in him, Henry believes in himself, too.

“I come to you with a chance to save a village from destruction and violence,” Henry says as he steps forward. “There’s a village to the west of Camelot’s heart––a village that needs our help and protection. My friend and manservant, Alex, brings his mother here to tell you about the horrors she’s experienced.”

He gestures to Alex’s mother who steps forward without an ounce of fear.

“Your Highness,” she says, bowing her head, “my name is Ellen Claremont. I come to you to humbly ask if you could allow some of your knights to return with me to my village of Austin. We have been attack––”

“Austin?” Philip asks, eyebrow raised.

“I––Yes, Austin.”

Philip scoffs. “That is not within our lands,” he remarks. “That village lies in Cornyn’s land.”

“Yes, but he is far from us. And he will not help us––that much I know.”

“I’m afraid that I must say the same for Camelot,” Philip decides with a sigh. “I’m sorry for your people––truly––but I cannot give you my knights. They must remain here to protect our kingdom.”

“Philip––” Henry starts.

Philip raises a hand, cutting him off. “My decision is final. You are, of course, permitted to stay as long as needed. But I cannot offer you help. The Court is dismissed.”

In a cacophony of noise, the Court disperses, leaving the six of them alone in the Throne Room. As soon as Philip is gone, Henry turns to the rest of his group to find Alex and June hugging their mother and offering their apologies.

“I’m sorry,” Henry tells them, hanging his head.

Alex looks up at him and Henry notes that the hope he once saw in his eyes has long since faded. “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles. “We’ll figure something out. Thank you for your time.”

Alex and June lead their mother out of the room, probably to help her prepare for the journey back to Austin. The frizzy-haired girl––June’s friend––follows them out and mumbles something about how she told them it wasn’t probable that Henry would help them. And that is, officially, the last fucking straw.

Henry will not bend to Philip’s whim. He will not let his brother command him not to help this village and Alex. He’s spent his entire life doing what he’s been told, but no more. Not when his silence and obedience means death and pain for the people of Alex’s village.

He storms away and up to his chambers, throwing together everything he will need for the journey ahead. As he packs his things, Bea enters his chambers with Pez by her side. He hears them enter––knows it is them––but does not even look their way. He’s too busy throwing things in his satchel.

“Henry––” she starts.

He shakes his head, throwing his armor into a satchel. “I have to help them,” he argues, “even if I die trying.”

“We know, mate,” Pez says.

Henry turns to look at them and sees that they’re both dressed in armor with satchels slung around their shoulders. He blinks at the sight of it, not sure what it means.

“We’re coming with you,” Bea explains. “You can’t take on a group of ruffians by yourself. If you die trying, we all do.”

In a moment, Henry crosses the room and gathers them both up into a massive hug. “Thank you,” he tells them.

“Don’t thank us until we’ve won,” Pez smiles.

As soon as Henry has his things in order, he goes down to Alex’s chambers to let him know of their plan. Bea and Pez are already speaking with June and the other girl––Nora, he’s been told––to get them on board. Henry wants to be the one to tell Alex himself, though. He wants to see the look on Alex’s face when Henry tells him that he’s not giving up and that he will make this right for him and his family.

When he enters, he sees Alex haphazardly throwing things into a satchel of his own.

“What are you doing?” Henry asks.

By the looks of it, Alex is not packing for a mere trip. He’s packing his entire life away.

Alex looks at him with frantic eyes and mussed curls. “I have to go with her,” he says. “I have to go home and do what I can to protect my family.”

Henry nods in understanding, a bit too pleased to have some fun with this. “So you won’t be returning?”

“No. You’ll have to find someone else to clean your chambers.”

Henry sighs, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, thankfully, you can just polish my boots on the way.”

Alex stops his frantic shoving of items into his satchel and turns around completely, staring at Henry like he’s just admitted some incredible secret. It hurts him, just a bit, that Alex doubted he would do this. But he hasn’t exactly proved himself to be a kind, loving Prince, has he? In the very beginning, he was nothing but cruel to Alex. It hurts even more to understand why Alex wouldn’t assume that Henry would drop everything to help him.

“You’re coming?” he asks, voice soft and shocked.

Henry nods and takes a bold step forward. “Of course I’m coming,” he tells him softly. “I would never leave you to do this on your own. I don’t care what Philip says––I’m coming and I’m going to fight by your side.”

Alex looks tearful for a moment and looks like he wants to actually _hug_ Henry for this. He doesn’t though––he pulls back at the last minute. He extends his hand instead. “Thank you,” he says breathlessly. “Seriously. Just…thank you.”

The ride to Austin takes a day and, while Alex rides, Henry notes the tension in him. He’s never seen Alex so nervous and unsure––never seen him look so scared. It’s strange because, of the two of them, Henry has come to think of Alex as the truly brave one. Sure, Henry can kill a beast threatening their land, but he still feels fear when he goes into battle. Alex doesn’t seem like the type to have fear or, more accurately, to ever let on that he’s scared. He’s scared now, though. Henry sees right through his little quips and attempts at banter with their fellow travelers. Maybe Henry just knows him well enough to read between the lines now. Or, maybe, Alex is _always_ scared. 

_What are you so afraid of?_ Henry wants to ask him. _What could you possibly have to fear? Don’t you know that I would protect you? Don’t you know I would give my own life to save yours?_

He doesn’t ask any of these things, obviously. Still, he holds onto the fantasy that he could tell Alex such musings and that, possibly, Alex would smirk and kiss him until they were both breathless and stupid. That maybe Alex would pull away, resting their foreheads together, and tell Henry that he does know this and that he would do the same. Maybe he would tell Henry that neither of them is truly alone as long as they have each other. Maybe he would tell Henry that it doesn’t matter that he’s a prince because he has a good heart underneath it all. 

_I see you_ , Alex might tell him. _I see you, I know you, and I love you._

He laughs the thoughts off––they're nothing but a fantasy. How could Alex ever love the real Henry? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	13. A Reunion of Sorts

It’s just like he remembers it. It’s both comforting and, somehow, terrifying to come back to this place––a place that looks exactly the same as when he left. In his head, he knows it wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like it should have changed when he left. Yet the cottages are the same and every face milling about is familiar to him. It helps to look over at Henry because he’s seeing this all for the first time. From his expression, it seems like this might be the first village he’s ever visited. It would make sense that Philip would shield him from this part of the world––from the poverty and the small lives. It’s a farming town––always has been. There’s a smell of manure in the air that he actually registers for the first time, having grown accustomed to it when he lived here. And there’s palpable happiness about the place that he never stopped to notice before since he had spent most of his time here finding fault with everyone. Seeing it again in these circumstances gives him a new appreciation for the place––it makes him feel not like he’s home, but just somewhere that’s vaguely familiar to him.

He, June, and the Royal siblings are staying with his parents. Nora is taking Pez to stay with her family since the Claremont residence hardly has room to accommodate all of them. If Alex is being honest with himself, this is a part of his life that he never wanted to share with Henry. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stomach the look on Henry’s face when he sees their simple cottage nestled on the hillside. The cottage is nothing like the castle––they won’t even be sleeping in beds. Maybe this will make Henry treat him differently. Maybe that’s one of his biggest fears about returning here.

There’s a familiar man standing outside the cottage when they arrive. It’s not Leo––it’s someone else. Alex is off his horse in an instant to talk to the man, thinking that they’d never see each other again after everything that happened between them. Somehow, for some reason, he’s _here_.

“ _Liam_ ,” Alex says, breathless and stunned at the sight of him.

It’s been at least a year since they last spoke––a year of Alex seeing him in passing but never directly. Liam’s changed since Alex knew him––he’s got stubble and muscle on him now that he didn’t have before. Despite this, Liam feels like a home to him. He reminds Alex of who he was––who he could be––when he was with him in their youth. Carefree, bold, and not afraid of what he was. For most of his life here, Liam was the one person that never told Alex to hide who he was. He reveled in Alex’s displays of magic. And, of course, reveled in something else within Alex. Something deep within his heart.

“Long time, no see,” Liam says in that familiar drawl that Alex has committed to memory.

Alex laughs and pulls him into a tight hug before he lets himself even think about it. Liam is quick to wrap his arms around Alex in return, pulling him closer. “Fuck, Liam,” he says as he pulls away, “what are you doing here?”

“I live here, remember?”

“I mean at my house.”

“Leo invited me,” Liam tells him with a shrug. “Hope that’s okay.”

Alex can’t help but beam at him. “More than okay. You staying for dinner?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

There’s a familiar presence at Alex’s side now––one he doesn’t even need to turn his head to know exactly who it is. It’s Henry, of course, certainly feeling pity for Alex now that he’s seen where he grew up.

“Who’s this?” he asks, tight-lipped and suspicious.

“Liam, meet Henry. Henry, meet Liam.”

They shake hands for a moment before Liam’s eyes grow wide. “You the Prince Henry? Or a different Henry?”

Henry looks down at his boots, clearly trying to keep his true identity under wraps. Or maybe he’s ashamed of his title––Alex hasn’t figured that part out yet. “Yes. The Prince.”

Liam retracts his hand like Henry’s burned him. “Hope you’re not staying for dinner.”

Alex glares at him. “ _Liam_.”

Liam shrugs. “I don’t trust Royals,” he says, all charm gone now. “Never have.”

“Can’t say that I blame you,” Henry sighs. “But I do hope you find me to be suitable for the task.”

Liam turns to Alex with a fire in his eyes, obviously out of the loop here. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“He’s here to help, okay?” Alex snaps. “He just wants to help the village.”

Liam laughs at him. “The only thing _they_ ever want is to help themselves. I’ll be inside. Come find me when you’ve got some sense knocked into you.”

Liam storms off and into the cottage, slamming the door behind him. Alex can’t help but groan, suddenly reminded of their differences. Yeah, this is part of the reason they stopped talking. Liam and his fucking hatred of the nobility. Alex never quite understood it––doesn’t think he’ll ever understand it. He knows that Liam’s parents were nobles and, subsequently, killed for treason, but he doesn’t understand the hatred within Liam. The Royals have made it abundantly clear that, if they were to find out what Alex really was, he’d be dead before dawn, and Alex has put all of that aside to play nice. Plus, Henry’s _different_. He’s not like all of the other snobs in the Court. He’s good, kind-hearted, and just wants to help people.

“Don’t let him bother you,” Alex tells Henry as he turns to get his stuff off of the horse. “He’s just stubborn.”

“Says you,” Henry smirks, retrieving his own satchel.

“He’ll come around. I did.”

Henry looks at him for a moment, those blue eyes so fucking blue and bright that Alex feels like he might drown in them if he looks at them too long. He looks away, unable to hold Henry’s intense gaze. There’s something in Henry’s eyes––something that makes Alex feel warm and sated. He can’t quite put his finger on it, though. Some kind of magic, maybe. Maybe it has to do with their intertwined destinies.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping,” Alex says, walking off towards the cottage.

When they enter the cottage with Bea and June trailing behind them, Alex can’t even bring himself to look at Henry’s face. The place is the same as he remembers it except, maybe, a bit more organized now that he and June aren’t here. There’s the familiar wooden table where they all used to eat dinner together––the one his father made all those years ago. There’s the smell of spices in the air from the small cooking area that used to make his mouth water in the morning, even if nothing was being cooked. The fireplace still stands in the corner, unlit, but reminding Alex of those cold nights they all used to spend in front of the flames seeking warmth. Liam’s sitting on the stool by the fireplace, whittling, it seems. Alex pays him no mind right now, still annoyed with how he treated Henry.

“So,” Henry says, looking around, “this is where you grew up?”

Alex nods and waits for the inevitable pity or something to come.

“It’s so _cozy_ ,” Henry sighs.

Alex turns to him and sees an awe-struck smile on his face.

“Cozy?”

“Yes, cozy. Personal, too. It’s––it’s so much more lovely than the castle.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” Bea says from behind them, looking around the small space.

Alex looks back at June who seems just as confused as he is.

“I would have loved to grow up in a place like this,” Henry continues, running his fingers across the smooth wood of the table. “A place that really feels like a home.”

Alex can’t help but stare at him––can’t help but wonder who this person is. How was he so _wrong_ about Henry? How did he go so long allowing himself to believe that even an inch of this man was cruel and vicious like his brother? The man stood before him is less of a prince than he lets on. Not quite a commoner, either, but someone who yearns for a life outside the castle walls. It amazes Alex to see this in him. It amazes him to know that Henry would drop everything, risk getting himself in trouble, come to this humble village prepared to fight, and feel connected to the place in a way that even Alex has never felt connected to it. If he closes his eyes, he can just picture Henry growing up in a place like this––growing up amongst the fields and the fire fairies in the fields. Henry loving every fucking minute of peace the world would have allowed him to have here.

The rest of the day passes in a chaotic frenzy. Alex takes Pez, Bea, and Henry on a tour of the village so they can get a better sense of the land and what areas might be beneficial for the fight. According to his mother, the crew of thieves will be back the day after tomorrow which means that they should rest up tonight and rally the villagers tomorrow and prepare them to fight. Henry has made it clear that no one is required to fight––that he’s confident enough in his group’s ability to pick up the slack of any villagers who choose not to fight.

So they spend the night eating with Alex’s family and their mix-matched crew. The mead and wine are flowing and the conversation is never-ending. Despite everything that might come, it’s a peaceful and light-hearted evening of exchanging stories and questions. Ellen is more than interested to hear how things are going in Camelot and what Henry thinks of the current laws. Nora wants to talk battle strategies and various percentages for different plans of attack. Through it all, Liam remains quiet and off to the side.

A few tankards of mead in, Alex joins him in the corner and nudges their shoulders together. “You okay?”

Liam shakes his head and looks down at his own tankard, clearly bothered by something. “You’re different now.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. He feels too warm and happy to let Liam’s words carry any negative meaning. “It’s been a while since you spoke to me. Of course I’m different.”

“You still mad at me for that?”

Alex shrugs. “No? I mean, it hurt to lose you. Big time. But…I get it. My magic is always gonna drive people away from me.”

Liam stares at him for a moment, his eyes threatening to swallow Alex’s whole. “Your magic? What do you mean?”

“It’s why you stopped talking to me,” Alex reminds him. “And I was mad at you at first, but I get it now. Being friends with me is dangerous and––”

“Your magic isn’t why I stopped talking to you,” Liam tells him, his eyes still on Alex’s.

Alex opens his mouth. Closes it. There are words and questions forming in his head, but he doesn’t know how to actually say them. He doesn’t know what this means. It has to have been his magic. That was always what he told himself when Liam came back to him in hazy thoughts and dreams. Alex’s magic drove them apart. Alex’s magic was too much for him to handle on top of his own shit. Maybe Liam was even scared that Alex might do something to him with his magic one day.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Liam says, standing.

Alex blinks up at him, still baffled.

“Wanna come with? I could use the company. Bandits and stuff.”

From across the room, Alex meets Henry’s gaze. There’s something there that his alcohol-soaked brain can’t quite place. It’s something behind his eyes––dark, maybe. Scared.

“Or do you want to stay here with your prince?”

Alex stands. “He’s not _my_ prince,” he huffs.

Maybe Henry hears him because he looks away and down at his goblet of wine. Maybe Alex would feel worse about it if Liam wasn’t looking at him like that––in that way that makes Alex feel somehow both special and like the biggest idiot in the world. So Alex doesn’t let himself feel bad about it right now. Instead, he gets up and follows Liam outside.

It’s a colder night and the stars are bright above them. It’s not as cold as Camelot, though, so Alex doesn’t mind it so much. He falls into step with Liam, wondering why Liam’s brought him out here. Maybe Liam will take them to the field they used to play in when they were children. Liam was always the hero on horseback and Alex was always his warlock who vowed to protect him from all harm.

“I can’t believe you,” Liam laughs. “Friends with Royals.”

Alex can’t help but roll his eyes. “They’re not my friends. I just work for one of them.”

Liam raises an eyebrow at him. “So he’d risk his life for any servant?”

Alex shrugs because he really doesn’t know the answer right now. “I think so.”

“You may be different,” Liam says, “but you’re still as oblivious as ever.”

Before Alex even has a chance to ask what that means, Liam’s lips are pressed against his own.

It’s been so long since they’ve done this––Alex had forgotten what Liam’s lips felt like. They’re different now, he thinks. Rougher. More desperate.

Liam pulls back, his eyes searching Alex’s for some kind of answer.

Alex grabs him by the neck and crushes their mouths together again.

It’s the most desperate he’s ever seen Liam. Back when they used to do this, it was all tentative and slow like Liam thought Alex would back out at any given moment. But like Liam said, Alex is different now. He’s had a lot of lonely nights to think about this. So he doesn’t stop kissing Liam, even when Liam pushes him against the wall of someone’s home. And he doesn’t stop kissing Liam when Liam grinds into him.

He returns the kiss passionately. Hungrily. He gets one hand fisted in Liam’s hair and lets the other one wrap around Liam’s waist, pulling him closer. He gets lost in the kiss in a way he’s never let himself get lost before. It feels like magic in a way––everything else fades to the background except for how Liam is making him _feel_.

A twig snaps.

Alex breaks the kiss and sees, faintly, the outline of a person running away.

He bites his lip and looks up at Liam who’s panting and still pressed against him.

Fuck, what is he doing?

What has he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	14. A True Hero

Henry stumbles back inside the Claremont’s cottage feeling like he can’t breathe. The walls are closing in around him––the hair is too thick for him to take into his lungs. He settles against the doorframe, feeling like he can’t take another step without collapsing. It’s the worst he’s ever been, he thinks. It’s been so long since he’s felt this way that he isn’t even sure what to make of it right now or how to come back from this feeling. He can’t close his eyes––not even to blink––because he sees them behind his eyelids. Alex pressed up against that wall. Liam pressed up against Alex. It’s too much for him to handle right now.

“Henry?” someone asks, voice soft like velvet.

He looks at them and sees that it’s Pez, still here from the dinner, it seems. He’s got a hand on Henry’s shoulder, squeezing it to anchor him to reality.

“He’s…”

Pez pulls Henry against him, wrapping him up in a hug. Henry melts into the touch, letting his head fall against Pez’s shoulder as Pez soothes him with his featherlight hands on Henry’s back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Pez asks.

Henry nods because, even though he doesn’t really want to, he knows that he should. He needs to get it off his chest.

Pez leads him to the stool by the fireplace which is now lit up by big flames. Henry didn’t even realize he was cold until he’s feeling the warmth from the fire flow through him. Pez crouches in front of him, setting a hand on Henry’s knee as he waits for Henry to get the courage to talk to him.

“Alex,” Henry starts, “he…he was with Liam.”

“They’re mates,” Pez offers.

Henry shakes his head. Clenches his fists. “He was _with_ him, Pez.”

Pez furrows his brow for a moment as he pieces it together. Then he gasps. “You mean…”

“ _Yes_.”

“I’m sorry, Hen. That must’ve been hard.”

Was it hard? Which was harder––seeing Alex kissing someone else or seeing Alex kiss another man? Does his chest hurt because Alex has found someone else or because that someone is a _man_? Would it make it better or worse if Alex was kissing a woman? Better, he thinks, because it would mean that he doesn’t stand a chance with him. If Alex likes men like Henry does, then that means Henry isn’t appealing to Alex like Alex is to him. It means that Alex doesn’t seem him that way––that Alex has specifically chosen to not go down that road with Henry. Logically, Henry knows that he’s given no reason for Alex to like him in this way. He’s been standoffish and dickish since they first met, but he’s tried to change all of that. He’s starting letting Alex in, piece by piece, in hopes that Alex will see through his walls and love him the way Henry is starting to love him.

Alex doesn’t come home that night. Henry doesn’t know if he should be surprised.

The next morning, he and Liam return looking tired and miserable and Henry can’t help but feel a bit good about that. _Good_ , he thinks. _Let him be at least half as miserable as I am_. He instantly scolds himself for even thinking such a thing because, Christ, he doesn’t want to see Alex in any danger. He never wants to see Alex looking miserable, even if Henry does.

“Morning,” Alex yawns with a smile, pouring himself some water. “Sleep well?”

Henry stares at him for a moment. “Not as well as I would have on a bed,” he says, resorting to his old facade.

Alex’s face falls but Henry doesn’t regret it. This is how it has to be––to protect himself. “Sorry,” Alex mumbles, chugging the water. “I…I’m just really thankful that you’re here. That you’re doing this for me.”

Henry scoffs. “I’m not doing it for you,” Henry snaps.

Alex takes a step back. “I know,” he says, clearly unsure. “Yeah. I mean, you’d do it for anyone, right?”

“How was your night?” Henry asks, sidestepping his question.

Alex furrows his brow. “What?”

“With Liam,” Henry says, the name feeling like bile in his throat.

Alex looks down, clearly embarrassed. “Good. We had a lot of catching up to do.”

“I’m sure you did.”

Alex sets down his glass. “What’s your problem with me?”

Henry folds his arms across his chest. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why are you doing this?” Alex asks. “Why are you turning back into this?”

“Into what, Alex? Tell me, what exactly am I turning into?”

Alex’s lip trembles for a moment. “Back into a prince,” he seethes.

“I _am_ a prince. Have you already forgotten?”

Alex slams his fists down on the table. “But you’re not!” he accuses. “You’re _different_. I _see_ you, Henry. The kind of man you really are. And this…” he says, gesturing to Henry, “isn’t who you really are inside.”

“You don’t know me,” Henry spits. “You don’t have the first bloody _clue_ about who I am. Now let’s do what we came here to do, all right?”

Henry turns on his heel and storms out, slamming the door behind him.

He spends the rest of the day ignoring Alex to the best of his ability. It’s fine, though, because he’s not here to be chummy with Alex. He’s here to get their troops in order and prepare them for the fight of their lives––to prepare them for the distinct possibility that this day might be their last. Oddly enough, Liam is playing nice today. He’s signed up to fight, no doubt because Alex demanded it of him while they shared a bed last night. So Henry puts him in Alex’s group. Lets the two of them be happy together. As long as it’s far from him.

When they go to sleep that night, all nervous for the day ahead, Alex sleeps next to him. It’s not by choice––it’s how it was arranged the night before. Henry turns his back to him on instinct, not wanting to look at his face. They go to sleep like that––backs to each other. In the middle of the night, Henry wakes up to a whimpering. He groans and turns to face it and sees Alex tossing and turning in his sleep, his hands clenched into fists as he cries out. For a moment, Henry debates not going over to help him at all. But then Alex cries out again, his face contorted in pain, and he shoves aside all of his heartache to soothe him.

“Alex,” he says, trying to shake him awake.

Alex’s body jerks at his touch and he remains asleep.

“ _Alex_ ,” he says again. He moves his hands to Alex’s arms to get a better grip on him and his skin burns to touch. He nearly recoils in pain, but he holds on. Alex is more important right now.

“Alex, it’s me. It’s Henry. You need to wake up.”

Alex’s eyes open, looking gold from the light of the fire for a moment. He sits up and looks at Henry with wide, panicked eyes. His breathing isn’t even and he’s sweating buckets. Henry has no idea what’s going on.

“You had a nightmare,” Henry tells him, running his hand up and down Alex’s arm.

Alex looks down to where Henry is touching him, then back up into Henry’s eyes. “I––did I wake you up?”

“That’s not important,” Henry whispers. “Are you okay? You were––you sounded like you were in pain.”

Alex closes his eyes for a moment before nodding. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Henry isn’t convinced in the slightest. “Do you want to talk about it? About your nightmare?”

Alex sighs. “It was nothing. Just a stupid nightmare.”

“It didn’t seem like it,” Henry admits. “You…you know you can tell me things, right?”

Alex stares at him for a moment, still getting his breathing under control. “I don’t know, actually.”

Henry feels like Alex has stabbed him in the heart. “Oh?”

“I thought we were…but then yesterday…” he sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” Henry offers. “Truly. I…there’s no explanation I can offer you. I’m here for you, though. And I mean that.”

Alex bites his lip for a moment, thinking about Henry’s words. “You killed me,” he whispers.

Henry’s eyes widen.

“In the dream,” he clarifies. “You…you were mad at me and you burned me at the stake.”

Henry is at a loss. What could he possibly say in this moment to make this better? Alex is still shaking, clearly troubled by the nightmare. It hurts him to know that Alex thinks he would actually do that to him––that Henry is capable of such a thing. Even if Alex doesn’t know how much Henry adores him, he should at least know that Henry cares enough about him to protect him. Isn’t that the whole reason they’re here? Isn’t that what Henry has tried to show him up until yesterday?

“Alex,” he says, choosing his words carefully, “I would never hurt you. For any reason.”

Alex looks up at him with wide eyes. “You mean that?”

Henry cups Alex’s jaw in his hand. “Of course. I swear it.”

“Even if I had a secret?”

“Even with your secret. I––I don’t care about you and Liam, Alex. I mean…I care but it doesn’t…it doesn’t change things between us.”

Alex stiffens. “You saw that?”

“Yes. And I’m okay with it. Don’t worry––your secret is safe with me.”

Alex smiles weakly. “Can I…can I ask you for something? You don’t have to do it.”

Henry takes his hand back. “You can ask me for anything, Alex.”

“Could you stay with me? Move your blanket and pillow over here and just…stay with me?”

Henry nods and retrieves his things. “Of course.”

They spend the night like that––side by side and facing each other. Alex doesn’t stir again until morning and Henry can’t help but feel that he had something to do with it.

When the thieves come again, they’re ready. Alex is on the other side of the village with Liam and a handful of other people that have signed up to fight, and Henry is leading his own troop. The thieves, while plentiful, are not good fighters. It doesn’t take more than a few swings of his sword to either cut them down or make them flee. But more and more pour in and, no matter how easily they fall, there are too many of them for Henry and his group to take on here. He tells them to retreat––wants the people of the village to get to safety.

Alex and Liam appear on their side of the village, clearly already finished with their own group and looking to help Henry fight these ones off. Henry sees the two of them standing there and looking at him, discussing something quietly. All of a sudden, a small tornado comes from their direction, taking out the thieves one by one and throwing them across the land. Henry stares at Alex and Liam, knowing exactly what happened.

_Magic._

One of them used magic.

As soon as the thieves have been dealt with by the magical storm, Henry storms over to them. “Which of you did it?” he asks, pointing a finger at them. “Which one of you used magic?”

Alex opens his mouth as Liam jumps onto Henry, pushing him to the ground. He hears the familiar sound of an arrow flying through the air while he falls, but he’s helpless to do anything about it.

Someone screams.

Henry gets up and sees Liam with an arrow through his chest––an arrow that he just saved Henry from. Liam is in Alex’s arms on the ground as the rest of the villagers come over to see what’s happened. Alex is trying to fix it––trying to stop the bleeding and take the arrow out, but Henry knows that it’s too late now. It was a clean shot––a deadly shot.

“ _Liam_ ,” Alex cries.

Henry crouches down beside him. “You saved my life,” Henry tells Liam. “Thank you.”

“Guess you’re not as bad as I thought,” Liam laughs. He winces in pain. “It was me. I was the one who made the wind. I’m a sorcerer.”

Henry stares at him for a moment, not knowing what to say.

“Liam…” Alex says.

“What are you gonna do?” Liam asks, looking at Henry. “Kill me twice?”

“I––of course not. I––”

“Henry,” Alex says, tears still falling, “can I just…can I have a moment with him?”

Henry nods and stands, feeling terrible for not thinking that Alex would want to say his goodbyes in private. As he walks away, he sees Liam tell Alex something––something that makes Alex shake his head and kiss Liam’s forehead before the life leaves Liam’s body.

Alex will fall apart after this––Henry knows as much.

It’s a good thing he’ll be there to pick up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	15. The Chosen One

Alex feels…

Well, Alex feels _numb_.

He doesn’t remember how he gets onto the horse back to Camelot. He doesn’t remember packing up any of his stuff. His mind is going into overdrive––replaying that scene on a constant loop. Liam pushing Henry out of the way. Liam taking that arrow. The look on his face when the arrow lodged itself in his chest. Fuck, how is Alex supposed to just keep going?

 _“Take a chance with him,_ ” Liam told him. _“I see the way you look at each other. Don’t let fear hold you back. If he loves you, he’ll accept you. Just like I did.”_

When he looks over at Henry now, he doesn’t know what to feel. Does he look at him a certain way? A way that would make Liam think there’s something going on between them? _Is_ there something going on between them? Even if there is, nothing can come of it. Despite Liam’s moving words, Alex knows that Henry’s hatred of magic goes deeper than anything. He hasn’t figured out why yet, but he knows it to be true. It might be something in Henry’s past that’s made him so hateful of it, but he refuses to ask. He isn’t sure he wants to know the answer.

“Are you okay?” June asks, riding up next to him.

He tears his gaze from Henry and looks at her. “No,” he says. “I’m really fucking not.”

“I’m sorry about Liam. I know how much he meant to you.”

He sighs. “I could have healed him,” he whispers. “If Henry wasn’t there, I could have…I should have healed him. Even with Henry there.”

“Alex, _no_. You can’t think like that, okay? If you had healed him in front of Henry, then we’d be marching you to your death right now. And how would that be better?”

He doesn’t even blink. “Because Liam would still be alive,” he snaps. “I’m going to die for it anyway, one day, so why shouldn’t that have been today? Why shouldn’t my last deed have been to save Liam’s life?”

June doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Remember when we used to go to that field and watch the fire fairies dance together?”

Alex nods, remembering it well. They were young and stupid––the three of them. It was before Nora came into their lives. In the beginning, it was just him, June, and Liam. Young and foolish with the whole world set before them. None of them knew the darkness they would soon discover. None of them understood what it really meant to be a person in this world. Kids. That’s all they were. Two siblings who took an orphan under their wing.

“You would teach us magic,” she reminds him. “And Liam could never do it right.”

“But you could,” Alex recalls. “You were good with the elements.”

June smiles at the memory. “But Liam couldn’t. And I always thought that he might be upset about it. I mean, when we were younger, I was upset that I couldn’t do what you could. I asked him about it, you know. I asked if he wanted me to tell you stop showing it to us because I thought it might be hurting him. And he looked at me and told me that he never wanted to see a day where you didn’t practice your magic. He told me that he was proud to call you a friend.”

“Because of my magic?”

“Because of what you _did_ with your magic. Too many people use it for evil, but you never have. You’ve only used it to help people and I think…I think he knew the man you were becoming. I think he understood what you and Henry mean to each other and the world you can build together. I think he believed not in Henry as a king, but in you. Without you, it all falls apart. The prophecy can’t be fulfilled without you. And Liam was a lot of things, but he was always a good man before anything else. A man who wanted to see the world change for the better.”

Alex thinks about it for a moment––thinks of a young Liam telling June that he was proud to call Alex a friend. He never knew that June had asked him about it. He never knew that Liam cared for him not despite it magic, but because of his magic. Because of what he thought Alex could do with that magic.

“How do you know about the prophecy?” Alex asks. He doesn’t remember telling her about the dragon.

“I do a lot of reading,” she laughs. “Wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

“Does it mention my name?”

“No,” she sighs. “It talks about a chosen one, though.”

“Henry. Right.”

She looks over at him with furrowed brows. “No, Alex. _You_.”

There’s a strange fluttering in his chest when June says that. A year ago, he never would have believed it. Him: the Chosen One. The one foretold to bring about a new world of peace and magic. Now, though, he thinks he might be starting to believe it. It helps to know that Liam believed in him––believed in him enough to die so this world could come to be one day. It’s funny to think that he believes in himself now, just a bit. He’s spent most of his life thinking that he has no purpose here and that his magic was a fluke. But he’s seen how Henry needs him, now. How Henry would be dead without his magic to protect him.

When they return to Camelot, they all disperse. All exhausted from the fighting and the journey, they each return to their own chambers with plans to see each other later that night at the tavern. Henry seemed unsure about the idea at first, but Alex thinks that he’ll come around. He knows that, deep down, Henry wants the kind of life where he can go to the tavern with friends. Even for somber occasions such as this one.

The town is buzzing and swept up in some sort of panic or frenzy when they arrive. He sees Rafael leaving the Throne Room on his way back to their chambers and, as soon as Alex sees him, he knows that something is wrong. Raf looks frantic and upset about whatever meeting he just had with the King, and he nearly falls over himself when he sees Alex standing there watching him.

“You’re back,” Raf says, stating the obvious, it seems.

Alex nods. “Yeah. And you’re…”

“Busy,” Raf says, already walking towards his chambers. Alex falls into step with his quick pace.

“With what? Can I help?”

Raf shakes his head and takes a turn with Alex following him. “I don’t think so. There’s some kind of… _plague_ that’s in the lower town.”

Alex thinks about it for a second. “So, what? People are getting sick?”

“More like dying,” Raf says, pushing open the door to his chambers. Alex enters behind him and shuts it.

“What’s causing it?”

“Magic, probably. Dark magic.”

Alex frowns. He really doesn’t understand why anyone would use magic to hurt other people. Magic is so beautiful at its core––a golden light that ties every thread of the universe together. If more people saw the good in it, maybe Philip wouldn’t want to kill everyone who possesses the gift to wield it.

“How?”

“Don’t know yet,” Raf says with a sigh as he moves to a brewing stand to mix things together over a low flame. “Anyway, how’s your mother? The village?”

“Good and good,” Alex says, taking a seat across from him and dropping his satchel on the floor. “Lost Liam though.”

“Liam? Who’s Liam?”

Sometimes Alex forgets that Raf hasn’t been a part of his life the whole time. “My best friend from home. He…he was a really good person. The first person outside of my family that knew about my magic.”

Raf looks up from his work and gives Alex a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry for your loss, kid.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Me too.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, but Raf’s gaze lingers on him. It’s some sort of silent check-in, he thinks. Evaluating how he looks and if he needs help. The thing is, he doesn’t know if he needs help. No one’s ever prepared him for this sort of thing. He’s grown up thinking that he’d die before anyone else he knows because of his magic, so he’s never considered the possibility that he’d have to live without someone who means so much to him. Liam was, in many ways, his family. A piece of his heart will always belong to Liam in some way––both because Liam was a friend and because of their romantic relationship from time to time. And Liam will always be the first person that accepted him holistically and without pause. Liam will always be the one who told Alex he believed in him in spite of everything else the world tried to make him believe.

Alex pulls himself out of his thoughts and looks at what Raf’s doing. “If it’s magic, how do we stop it?”

“We don’t know the source yet,” Raf tells him. “When we know where it’s coming from, we can figure it out. Seems like it might be some sort of creature, though. Maybe something poisonous. Could also be a wicked potion, though. There’s really no way to know until we know where the disease is coming from.”

“And it’s only in the lower town?”

Raf nods and pours a purple liquid into his concoction. “So it has to be something specific to that part of the citadel. But there’s so much there––the market, the tavern. It’s impossible to say where this is originating.”

“I’ll look into creatures,” he offers, standing to get the book of magical creatures from the shelf. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

He settles down and starts reading over the material in front of him, his eyes scanning each page for any information that might be useful.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and Nora comes into the room looking disheveled and upset. Alex is on his feet in an instant, wondering what could possibly be going on now.

“June,” she cries. “It’s––You need to go see her. She’s got it––she’s got the sickness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	16. They Never Leave Us

Henry returns to his chambers and puts everything away, happy to be back in Camelot. His heart aches for Alex and his loss, but he doesn’t know what he can do to make it any better. Honestly, he doesn’t know where they _stand_. Since Liam is gone, does that mean Alex will, one day, be open to someone else? Of course, Henry doesn’t want to push him. He was there––he knows that Liam means something great to Alex. He wouldn’t want to force Alex into something he wasn’t ready for. But maybe Henry _should_ tell him about these feelings. After they spent the night together, he swears he can feel that something in Alex has shifted. Something good––something that brings him closer to Henry.

He goes on a walk to clear his head, allowing the nature of the fields by the castle calm his mind. The never-ending green of the rolling hills helps him get perspective on everything. If he looks out at the world, he can imagine a different life for himself. With Philip in good health and unlikely to die any time soon, Henry can leave Camelot. He can run away from all of this entirely––go to some other kingdom and live life as the villagers of Austin do. Maybe he could be a farmer or a whittler. Maybe he could teach the children of the village how to protect themselves with a sword. And in this life, he sees two seats by the fire. One bed big enough for two men––a dog, maybe. This fantasy includes a certain snarky manservant with bright eyes and a headful of tousled curls. This fantasy includes Alex. As long as Alex is by his side, none of the rest matters.

There are flowers sprouting by the road––gorgeous ones. When he sees them, he knows what he must do. So he plucks a few of them––some yellow, purple, and white ones. He takes them into his hands and brings them back to his chambers, first stopping in Bea’s to grab some ribbon to hold them together. When he gets to his own chambers, he sets the flowers down on the table and changes his clothes into something more suitable. A blue shirt, nice trousers, and a cloak that belonged to his father. The velvet one he only wears on truly special occasions. He checks his reflection in the mirror, spending five minutes deciding how to part his hair. He settles on a side part, letting most of his hair fall to the left. Then he takes a deep breath, grabs the flowers, and follows his heart.

He knocks on the door to the physician’s chambers, praying that Alex is still here and that he hasn’t headed off to the tavern yet. From the sounds of it, there’s at least someone home. Multiple people, actually. There’s a cacophony of commotion and then the door opens to reveal Alex. Alex who looks like a complete wreck with red eyes and messy, frizzy curls. He’s still in his clothing from the journey.

“Alex,” Henry beams.

Alex does not return his smile. Nora comes up behind him, wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist and leaning on him. She looks miserable, too. Henry wonders if this is about Liam. He wonders if he should leave.

“You heard?” Nora asks him.

“I heard?”

“About June,” Nora clarifies.

Henry blinks and looks past Nora and Alex to find June on a cot, her skin tinted blue, with Rafael hunched over her. He pales at the sight of it.

“Yes,” he says. “I brought her these flowers.” He tries not to let his emotions show in his voice––tries to keep his feeling of rejection buried deep beneath the surface of his words.

Nora smiles and takes them from his hand before going back into the room to fetch a vase for them. When she’s out of earshot, Henry shifts his gaze to Alex.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “First Liam and now––”

“She’s not dead yet,” Alex says, wiping his eyes. “She’s just…fuck, Henry, I can’t do this.”

Henry nods in understanding. “Would you like to talk about it? We can go to my chambers if you’d like. Or if you want––”

“Yeah,” Alex says. “I––I can’t be here right now.”

Henry offers him his elbow and Alex takes it, leaning on him heavily as Henry guides them through the castle and to his chambers. In other circumstances, having Alex touch him like this might send shivers down his spine. It might make him feel lively and whole again. But now, given everything, it just breaks his heart to know that Alex is so distraught that he has to lean on Henry like this to even walk.

He sets Alex down in front of the fire and grabs him a blanket, draping it around his shoulders. He doesn’t know where to sit––doesn’t know if Alex wants him close or far away.

“You can sit,” Alex tells him, watching Henry stand awkwardly in front of him as he tries to make a decision. “I…I could really use some company right now.”

Henry nods and sits next to him, leaving a safe distance between them. “I don’t even know where to begin,” he sighs. “Do you know what happened?”

“There’s some sort of sickness spreading through the lower town,” Alex sighs. He meets Henry’s gaze.

“If it’s an illness, is there a cure?”

Alex shakes his head, his curls limply swaying with the movement instead of bouncing like they normally do. “Everyone who’s gotten it has died.” His voice breaks off at the end and he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “I can’t…I can’t _lose_ her, Henry.”

Damn the space between them. Henry crosses it in an instant, wrapping his arms around Alex’s trembling body and letting Alex bury his head in Henry’s chest. Henry rubs circles on Alex’s back, his heart breaking as Alex trembles beneath him. He wants, more than anything, to take his pain away somehow. If he could, he would find a way to take it for himself so he could see Alex smile again. So Alex didn’t have to feel heartbreak after heartbreak like this.

“I’m so sorry,” he tells him as he attempts to soothe him.

A broken sob leaves Alex’s lips, vanishing into Henry’s shirt as Alex pulls him impossibly closer. “I can’t do this,” he whispers.

“Yes,” Henry tells him, “you can. You are so strong, Alex. And you’re not alone. You’re never alone.”

“I feel alone,” Alex admits. “First Liam and now June and I––I can’t fucking do this. I can’t be alone like this. They can’t just _leave_ me like this!”

Henry feels tears prick his eyes as he plants a delicate kiss into Alex’s messy curls, knowing that he won’t even feel it given the state he’s in right now. “No one ever leaves you,” Henry promises you. “They’re always with you. Right here,” he says, putting his hand over Alex’s heart. It beats steadily beneath his fingertips, a reminder that Alex is still here and alive. Alex sets his hand on top of Henry’s and takes a deep breath. His other hand finds Henry’s other one on the sofa and he tentatively threads their fingers together. Henry nudges Alex’s nose with his own, bringing their foreheads together.

They breathe the same heavy air for a moment, simply existing in the small part of the world they’ve carved out for themselves. Henry wishes he could press this moment into a seal and carry it in his pocket. Carry it on his breast near his heart so Alex would always be with him. Here. Safe. Alive. Not broken completely quite yet.

“You’re never alone,” Henry says again. Like a prayer.

Alex opens his eyes and looks into Henry’s. “How do you know?”

“Because,” Henry tells him, brushing their noses together again, “I’m there, too. Always.” He presses his hand into Alex’s chest a bit.

Alex closes his eyes again. “In my heart?”

“Yes. Always right there.”

Alex collapses with his head in the crook of Henry’s neck. “In my heart,” he repeats. “Always.”

Henry moves his hand from Alex’s chest and puts it on the back of his neck, using his thumb to rub at the soft skin there. He closes his eyes and sets his head on top of Alex’s, resting his cheek against his curls. “The ones we love,” he sighs, “they never really leave us. They can’t––love makes it impossible for someone to completely fade away.”

“Like your father?”

Henry stiffens for a moment because this isn’t a subject they’ve talked about before, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it. “Yes. Like my father.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispers into his neck, his breath warm upon his skin. “You’ve been through so much…”

“So have you,” Henry says. “I just hope we can hold onto each other. That’s what makes it all better when it feels like the pain is crushing you. You have to find people who will be there to pick up the pieces when you fall apart.”

“I think I am,” Alex admits. “Falling apart, I mean. Or I will. If she…”

“I believe in her. She’s a fighter, just like you. She can survive, Alex. If anyone can live through this, it’s June.”

Alex doesn’t say anything else, just lets himself be held by Henry.

As Henry tries his best to comfort him with featherlight touches, he just hopes that he’s right––that June survives this. If she doesn’t, he doesn’t know what it will do to Alex. If he’ll be able to put the pieces back together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	17. No Matter the Cost

Henry was right about one thing: Alex won’t lose her. As soon as he feels better, he marches down to the physician’s chambers and into his room, closing the door behind him. He finds the book of spells hidden under the floorboards and pours through it in hopes of finding a cure––something to heal June from this terrible disease. If Raf is right and the source is magical, then Alex should be able to undo it with magic of his own. There should be something here that will save her life from this. He’d trade his own life for hers in an instant if the spell required it––there’s nothing he won’t do to ensure her health and safety.

He finds the spell in the middle of the book. It’s an enchanted poultice. The ingredients are things he recognizes as common herbs in Raf’s line of work, so all he has to do is dig around the various vials and jars to find them. He ties them together in a cloth and holds the poultice in his hands, closing his eyes and muttering the enchantment. The poultice is glowing when he looks at it again which means that it must have worked. Delighted, he slides the poultice under June’s pillow just as Raf comes back. Alex backs away from the bed, trying to make it look like he didn’t do anything. He knows that Raf would tell him magic is risky, especially to save someone from a disease that is, currently, untreatable.

“What are you doing?”

Alex shrugs. “Just checking on her. I––I want to figure out what this is so we can stop it.”

Raf nods in agreement and sits down at his table. “There _must_ be something in one of these books. But we can’t exactly talk to any of the victims to see what they have in common.”

Alex looks over at June, wondering if she’ll remember anything useful about where this could be coming from. Raf must notice his look because he furrows his brow and glares at Alex with an intensity Alex hasn’t seen from him before.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Alex gasps, feigning offense.

Raf continues to glare at him. “If I find out you––”

“I didn’t do anything,” Alex huffs. “It’s cool. Anyway, we gotta find the creature responsible, right? So let’s get looking.”

Knowing that June will survive makes Alex feel a lot less interested in reading through these books of magical creatures. While he still wants to help other people, of course, he can’t help but let his mind wander to other things. Things like how Henry’s hand felt in his own. Things like how Henry kissed his head. Things mostly containing Henry’s pretty eyes and pink lips. Is it wrong for Alex to think about him like this? He’s the Prince of Camelot––untouchable to the extreme. And yet…

Maybe Alex has been thinking about this all wrong. Maybe his destiny isn’t to live in Henry’s shadow and protect him from the sidelines––maybe it’s for them to rule side by side. Did the dragon know that Alex would feel this way for his prince? Honestly, he didn’t even predict this. He had no idea that everything between them could change in such a short period of time. But he knows Henry now in a way that he didn’t before. He sees the good and the kindness behind all of the walls he’s built up to protect himself and make himself seem more like the Prince that Philip expects from him. Alex sees through all that now in a way he didn’t before. And he sees something else, too. Something Liam probably saw in him.

“Found it,” Raf says, pushing a book across the table. Alex takes it, turns it, and reads the page in front of him.

There’s a drawing of a horrible monster––brown and gooey with sharp teeth. He reads the words below the image and finds that this nefarious creature is, as Raf predicted, born of dark magic. There’s another drawing of an egg with runes on it that Alex can’t quite decipher. He stares down at the beast and then looks up at Raf.

“Can we kill it?”

“We’ll need magic,” Raf sighs, pulling the book back towards himself and looking down at it. “It’s a creature made from clay and hatched in water. It’s elemental––you’ll need the two others to destroy it.”

Alex frowns. “So…fire and air?”

Raf nods.

“And we’re sure this is the creature?”

“Pretty sure. Again, it’s not like we can ask anyone to confirm that they got the sickness from the water, but the lower town’s water pump comes from its own reservoir under the castle. That could be why it’s isolated to just there.”

“We need to tell the King,” Alex says.

“Tomorrow,” Raf agrees. “It’s late––he’ll be asleep. First thing in the morning, we’ll tell him. Then you and Henry can go vanquish the beast. You’ll have to be––”

“Careful,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. “I know.”

Raf shoots him a soft smile before yawning. “I’m headed to bed,” he says as he stands. “You should do the same. Got a long day ahead of us, kid.”

It takes Alex ages to fall asleep despite the exhaustion. When he closes his eyes, he feels Henry’s skin on his own. Warm and light and beautiful. He imagines all of the other places Henry could touch him––where he could touch Henry, too. It’s maddening to be able to feel Henry’s fingers on him but know that it’s just a figment of his imagination. He wishes he could shut his magic off––his magic that’s intensifying these phantom feelings on his bare skin. It’s one of the things he’s unable to control, no matter how hard he thinks about stopping it. It was never this bad with his thoughts about Liam, though. Maybe it’s because Henry makes him feel things that Liam didn’t make him feel. Maybe it’s because he’s so desperate to touch Henry again that he feels like he might explode if he doesn’t.

When he wakes up in the morning after a long night of patchy sleep, he goes to check in on June. She’s already awake when he enters the room and she’s got Raf and Nora by her side, already tending to her and asking questions. Alex hugs her, pushing her down onto the cot with the force of it. She laughs and wraps her arms around him, clearly happy to see him, too.

“We thought you were dead,” Alex says.

“So did I.”

He smiles at her and stands, letting her have her space. He wonders if she’s in any pain––if she needs another healing spell or poultice.

“You’re the only one to survive,” Raf tells her.

Her eyes widen. “Why did I?”

Raf’s eyes flicker to Alex for a moment. “You must just be lucky.”

Alex smiles, trying to play it cool instead of letting on that no, June isn’t just lucky. Raf seems to be onto him already, though, so he doesn’t know if there’s even a point anymore. But what does it matter if he used magic to save her? She’s alive and well and that’s all anyone cares about.

The door bursts open and Bea, Henry, and Pez come into the room. Nora probably told them that June was okay––they’re probably here to check in on her. It’s sweet, Alex thinks, looking specifically at Henry. He smiles at all three of them as they enter, but Henry is the only one that doesn’t smile back. While Pez and Bea make a beeline for June, Henry moves towards Alex and puts a hand on his elbow, silently telling him to obey him. Alex straightens his posture and nervously allows Henry to pull him to a corner of the room where they can’t be overheard.

“You need to leave,” he says.

Alex frowns. Was last night terrible for Henry? Does he regret comforting Alex like that? “What?”

“Philip,” Henry explains, “found out that your sister is alive. He suspects magic and…he’s out for blood, Alex.”

“Mine?”

“It doesn’t matter to him. He suspects magic and he won’t stop until someone’s found guilty. Did you go to a sorcerer, Alex? Did you pay someone to heal her?”

Alex shakes his head. “No, I swear.” It’s true––he didn’t _pay_ someone to heal her. Why would he pay a sorcerer when he himself knows magic?

Henry doesn’t seem convinced or relieved to hear this, though. Just as he opens his mouth to say something else, the door opens again. This time, it’s Philip and a crew of knights.

“Search this place,” Philip demands of the knights. They instantly scurry off to do his bidding.

Raf puts his hands on his hips and looks at Philip. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“I believe someone used sorcery to heal the handmaid,” Philip says, glaring at June.

Alex feels his magic simmer to the surface of his skin, ready to be used in defense of his sister.

“No one used magic,” Raf tells him as the knights go through the bookshelves.

“Then how did she recover from an illness you claimed to be fatal?”

“Perhaps one of my elixirs worked but took hours to––”

“Sire!” one of the knights shouts, holding the poultice in his hand like a trophy. “I found something.”

Philip beckons him over with his finger and the knight obliges, handing Philip the poultice. Philip turns it over in his hands for a moment before looking up at all of them. “It’s been enchanted,” he hisses. “Which of you did this?”

Alex looks at Henry for a moment––at his soft hair and blue eyes that are full of fear. He takes a deep breath and steps forward.

“It was me,” a voice says.

He’s not the one that says it.

It’s _Raf_.

The knights hold his hands behind him, securing him as the King comes over to him and stands in front of him with the poultice in one hand. “I find you, Rafael Luna, guilty of sorcery. You shall be burned at the stake in the morning.”

Alex watches helplessly as the knights push Raf out of the room and, presumably, down to the dungeons where he will be held until his execution in the morning. His lip trembles at the sight of it––at the knowledge that Raf is giving his life to save Alex’s. But Alex won’t let him do this. Alex doesn’t consent to Raf pulling this shit. He’s the one who used magic to save June’s life. It should be his life on the line, not Raf’s. But what can he do? How can he fix this?

“Alex––” Henry starts, reaching out for him. 

Alex shrugs him off. “I have to go,” he tells the room.

Henry cocks his head in question. “Go? Go where?”

“Go fix this. He’s not dying. Not if I can stop it.”

He rushes out of the room and to the one person he knows can help him in this time of need. He lights a fire in his palm as he makes his way down the stairs and into the dark cave where he dwells, already knowing that he will pay whatever price he needs to in order to free Raf.

“The young warlock returns,” the dragon smiles as he enters.

Alex’s hasn’t got the damn time. “I need your help.”

“What troubles you?”

“My mentor,” he says, tears pricking his eyes at the thought of Raf in a dungeon for Alex’s crimes. “He took the fall for my magic. He’s to be killed in the morning.”

“And?”

“ _And_ I need you to tell me how to save him. You said you know everything so, please, just tell me what I have to do.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” the dragon says.

“Bullshit!”

“The man you speak of swore an oath,” the dragon tells him, “to protect you at all costs. To risk his life for you if needed. Everyone else is expendable but you, young warlock, are vital if this world is to see peace.”

Alex shakes his head, refusing to believe that. “They’re not _pawns_!” he shouts. “They’re my friends––my fucking _family_! I won’t let them die. Not for me.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” the dragon bellows. “It would be foolish to think you can save him. The only person you need to save is Henry.”

“I don’t care,” Alex cries, hitting his fucking limit with this shit. “I will save Raf. I don’t care the cost. He won’t die for me.”

Without another word, he storms off.

The dragon shouts for him behind him, begging him to come back, but Alex doesn’t listen. He needs to fix this.

Now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	18. Something in the Water

It’s the first time Henry has been in a Council meeting without Rafael here. Philip is catching the rest of the members up on the newest arrest and how the threat of magic is never gone completely, especially since they just discovered it in the very heart of the kingdom. The other members look scared and are, most likely, wondering if what happened to Rafael will happen to them next. While it’s a known face that Rafael used to practice healing magic, it’s also known that he swore his allegiance to the Royal Family and, with that, swore off magic. He hasn’t used it in over five years so Henry can’t help but wonder if they got the wrong man this time. He knows Rafael pretty well, especially now that he has Alex in his life, and he knows that the physician wouldn’t risk using magic, especially in his own chambers where the evidence was right there for Philip to find. He must have been framed or something. Henry just has to figure out why.

“You’ve been quiet,” Philip says, looking at Henry.

Henry shrugs. “I just don’t understand it,” he admits. “Why would he use magic? Now?”

“Because he wanted to save the girl.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” he argues. “She’s not in his charge. As far as I know, they only know each other through Alex.”

The door to the Throne Room bursts open and Alex runs into the room looking sweaty and frazzled.

Philip is fuming in an instant. “This is Council business,” he seethes.

“I have business for the Council,” Alex says. Henry and Alex make searing eye contact for a moment. "Raf didn’t do it. I did.”

Henry’s breath catches in his throat. His heart forgets how to beat. His mouth goes dry at the confession but it _can’t_ be true. He would know if Alex possessed magic, wouldn’t he? Alex doesn’t fit the bill of a sorcerer in the slightest. He’s young and beautiful and has a good heart––he wouldn’t be the kind of person to practice magic. And yet, Alex is here before the Council and confessing his crimes. But they’re certainly not actually his crimes. This must be some sort of plan––maybe one he hatched with Raf somehow.

“He’s just trying to save his mentor,” Henry offers, his voice weak.

“Take me instead,” Alex demands, ignoring Henry. “Sentence me to death, not Raf. He didn’t do anything.”

Henry stands, ready to fight for Alex with everything he’s got. “Ale––”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Your Highness,” Alex says, putting a hand up towards Henry, “but shut the fuck up.”

Henry huffs and takes a seat, banished to just watch this all unfold instead of helping, it seems. Well, fine. If Alex doesn’t want his help, so be it.

“You mean to tell me that _you_ were the one who enchanted the poultice?” Philip asks.

Alex nods. “Yeah. So switch us out. You know Raf, don’t you? You know he would never do anything like this. It was me. Take me instead.”

“Guards!”

The guards obey instantly and march over to Alex, pinning his hands behind his back.

Well, _fuck_ what Alex wants. Henry won’t let himself sit back and just watch him die. Not for this––not for something he didn’t do. “Wait!”

Everyone freezes, waiting to hear what Henry has to say about this. Philip looks more than pissed off, but Henry doesn’t care. He won’t let Alex become just another causality in Philip’s war on magic. Not if he can help it.

“If we catch who is responsible, you’ll release him.”

Philip frowns. “The boy has admitted his guilt.”

“To save his mentor!” Henry argues. “The physician is the closest thing he has to a father here. Can you blame him for trying to save his life?”

Henry holds Philip’s steely gaze, praying that he’ll get through to him somehow.

“If you catch the one responsible,” Philip sighs, “then the boy will be released. Until then, throw him in the dungeon. Release the physician.”

The guards obey and shove Alex out of the room to take him down to the dungeon. Even though the future feels so uncertain right now, there’s one thing that Henry is sure of: he will find whoever is responsible for this.

As soon as the Council meeting is dismissed, Henry makes a beeline for the dungeon. He needs to know what Alex’s plan is here so he can help in any way that he can. With Alex out of commission for the meantime, Henry knows that it is up to him to see whatever plan he’s concocted through to the end. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect Alex––he’ll face whatever beast he has to if it keeps Alex safe and alive.

The guards let him in even though Alex isn’t supposed to have visitors. He’s in a cell in the back of the dungeon where all the sorcerers are kept. It’s a smaller cell––damper, dingier, darker. Henry wishes he could bring him a more suitable blanket or a pillow to ease his time here, but he knows that he wouldn’t be allowed to give such luxurious items to a man who is now seen as a prisoner and a criminal.

“What are you doing here?” Alex asks as soon as Henry approaches the bars of his cell.

“I’ve come to see you,” Henry says, thinking it was obvious. “I thought you might have some great plan in the works.”

Alex snorts at his words. “Yeah, for sure. My plan is to keep Raf alive. That good enough for you?”

Henry sighs, not knowing what to say. “Don’t you care about your own life?”

Alex looks up at him from where he’s seated on the floor, his brown eyes duller than Henry has ever seen them. He looks like he’s given up––like he has no hope. “Not really,” he admits. “Not if it means someone else gets hurt.”

Henry wishes he could have even an ounce of Alex’s bravery. “Just tell me what I must do,” he pleads. “There must be something going on. A lead? A clue?”

“Talk to Raf,” he suggested with a shrug. “I can’t really do much from in here.”

“Then why put yourself here? Why lie and take the fall for this?”

“Because I don’t matter,” he hisses.

Henry feels like someone has just shot an arrow into his heart and twisted it. “That’s not bloody true.” He feels like he might cry. He tries to push the tears back––tries to stay strong for Alex. “Don’t you know that you mean everything to me?”

They’re holy words––ones that possess more magic than Henry ever thought he’d wield. They make Alex’s eyes grow wide and glossy, breathing the life back into him. Henry reaches out for him carefully threading his fingers through the bars that separate him from Alex. Alex reaches up, his fingers an inch away.

“Time’s up, Your Highness,” a guard tells him.

He retracts his hand, wishing more than anything that he could stay here with Alex. “I’m going to save you,” he vows. “I won’t let them kill you, all right? I promise.”

Alex nods absent-mindedly, clearly unsure if Henry can actually do this. He will do this, though. He’ll do everything in his power to catch whatever sorcerer is responsible for this.

He goes to the physician’s chambers to talk to Rafael as Alex instructed him to do. When he arrives, Rafael is cleaning up the mess the knights made earlier when they tore apart his chambers in search of the poultice.

“Hello, Your Highness,” Rafael says as Henry enters. “Thank you for convincing them to let me go. Have you seen Alex?”

Henry freezes. “You…You haven’t heard?”

Rafael sets down the books he was re-shelving and looks at Henry with a raised brow. “Heard what?”

“The reason they let you go,” Henry clarifies, “is because Alex took the blame for the poultice.”

Rafael’s eyes widen. “He did _what_?”

Henry bites his lip nervously, really not wanting to get Alex into more trouble. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

Rafael rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna kill that kid.”

“I’m afraid he’s already set to be executed in the morning,” Henry sighs. “Unless we do something. I’ve convinced Philip to let him go if I can find who did this. Alex told me you might know something about whatever magic this is. Do you?”

“I––Yeah, actually. Alex and I were going to tell you and the King but then…” his voice trails off for a moment. “Anyway, yes. We think it’s in the water supply. June confirmed that the last thing she remembers doing was fetching water and drinking some.”

“The lower town has a different water supply,” Henry recalls.

Rafael nods. “Right. But the thing is that the creature is born of earth and water. So you’d need air and fire to destroy it.”

“Fire’s easy enough,” Henry nods. “We can bring torches. As for air…I’m assuming a simple draft won’t do?”

Rafael shakes his head. “You’d need something stronger. Wind, probably.”

Henry thinks about it for a moment, wondering if Alex knew about this plan and if he had any ideas. “I’ll get a group together,” he proposes, “and we’ll see what we can do.”

“Bring June,” Rafael advises. “I think she can help.”

Since June is already back to her duties in the castle, it’s easy enough to find her. He recruits her and Pez for the mission, figuring that, between the three of them, they can figure something out. Both Pez and June are more than eager to help Henry bring down this creature, especially when he explains that defeating it is the key to freeing Alex. So the three of them journey to the depths of the castle together with torches and swords in hand.

“We’ll save him, June,” Henry says as they walk down to where the water of the lower town resides in an underground reservoir.

June nods but doesn’t look convinced. She looks nervous. “Yeah. I hope so.”

“I’ve battled dragons, you know,” Pez grins, “so some sort of clay creature won’t be an issue.”

June smiles weakly back at him.

When they arrive, Henry can already tell that there’s something foul down here. It’s dark and damp and there’s a certain scent lingering in the air that makes his stomach churn. He unsheathes his sword, ready to fight whatever creature they’re about to encounter. Pez raises his torch as they approach the water in an attempt to get a better view of it, but all they see is clear water before them. Maybe they got this wrong––maybe there is no dark creature here.

All of a sudden, there’s a massive splash and a creature emerges from the water’s depths, baring its wicked teeth at them. Pez squeals and leaps back, nearly dropping his torch in the process.

“Hold your ground!” Henry calls, blade out and at the ready. He turns to look at Pez and June, just to make sure they’re both okay, but he only finds Pez behind him. “Where’s June?”

Pez shrugs, still looking at the monster in the water. “Don’t know! Doesn’t matter now, mate. We’ve got to kill this thing!”

Henry nods and swipes his blade at the creature but it does no harm. He recalls Rafael’s warning about the elements and how only fire and air can destroy it. He lifts his hand with the torch in its grasp, holding it towards the beast. The creature hisses and shies away from the flames, clearly weakened by it. But fire alone won’t be able to do the trick––they’ll need wind, somehow.

Suddenly, a gust of wind comes in from behind them, forcing the flame forward and onto the beast. It instantly turns to dust when the wind-powered flame comes into contact with its gooey body.

Henry looks around and sees June running back towards them.

“How did––”

“I opened the gate,” June says, out of breath. “Luckily a gust was blowing through.”

Henry doesn’t quite believe her but he doesn’t care enough to question it.

“Found something,” Pez says, reaching into the water. He pulls his hand out and reveals what looks like part of a massive egg.

Henry takes it and holds it up to the light, noting the dark runes on it. “It’s in a different language,” he says.

June stares at it for a moment. “The Old Religion,” she whispers. “The language of old magic.”

“We have to get this to Rafael,” Henry says, pocketing the item.

If June’s right, this is their key to saving Alex. Their proof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	19. Kissing the Prince

Alex is wasting away in the dungeon, truly believing that this day will be his last. If it is to be his last day alive, he has so many fucking regrets. Starting with Henry. He should have kissed him when he had the chance––he should have just pressed his lips to Henry’s to see the reaction. He should have held him tighter when Henry comforted him. He should have told him that he believes in him and the King that he’ll be one day.

Now, sitting here in the damp dungeon, he knows that he’s missed his chance. He’ll die tomorrow morning without knowing what it’s like to kiss Henry and hold him in his arms not as a friend, but as a lover. It’s not like Henry will be able to defeat the clay creature––not without magic. So Alex will sit here until dawn when he’s burned at the stake. It’s fine, though. He probably deserves it. Henry doesn’t need Alex to become the King of Camelot––he just needs to believe in himself. Henry has more than enough friends to pick up the slack Alex will leave behind when he dies, and Alex is certain that they’ll all keep him safe. Henry doesn’t need Alex. Not like Alex needs Henry.

He leans his head back against the damp wall of his cell, looking up at the dark ceiling. The sun is setting outside––his last sunset ever. He sighs at the sight of the colors painting the sky, wishing that he could see them one final time. Maybe he should break out of here––run away to a different kingdom and live on a farm or something. But what kind of life would that be? What would he tell himself? He won’t run or use magic to escape this. When he dies tomorrow, he will die with honor.

Voices echo from down the hall but they’re muffled so Alex can’t figure out what they’re saying. Then, clear as day, the sounds of footsteps follow. He turns his head to look at the dimly lit hallway and sees two guards coming his way with the keys in hand. They unlock his cell door and hold it open without saying anything.

Alex feels like this might be a test. “You’re just…letting me leave?”

One of the guards nods. “Yes. His Royal Highness Prince Henry has discovered the sorcerer responsible. You have been permitted to leave. Shall you once again find yourself in such a pre––”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex grins, standing, “I got it. Magic bad, King good. I’ll see y’all soon, probably.”

Before they can lock him away again, he practically sprints out of the dungeon. It’s dark outside by the time he’s on the main floor of the castle and, honestly, he doesn’t even know what he should do first. Part of him knows that he should go see Raf and let him know that, no, he’s not going to die in the morning. Raf is probably worried sick about him, too. If what the dragon said about that oath is true, then Raf is probably going to go into cardiac arrest soon with stress about Alex rotting away in the dungeon. So, logically, Alex should go see Raf. But his feet don’t agree with this decision and, instead, they carry him up the grand staircase and onto the second floor of the castle where the bed chambers are. His feet carry him all the way to a very familiar door.

Henry’s chambers.

He frowns at the sight of the door in front of him. He’s just spent the past few hours convincing himself that he was going to die and that he would never see Henry again. He’d made peace with how things ended between them but now…what is he supposed to say? _Hey, thanks for saving my life. I know I’m just your manservant, but I really want to kiss you? Is that bad?_ He’s not going to say that. Henry would probably take one look at him and laugh his ass off at the mere idea that he could be interested in a servant. That’s Alex is to him––a servant.

This whole thing is fucking stupid. He shouldn’t even be here. He should go find Raf.

He turns to leave and immediately regrets it or wishes he knew a spell for invisibility. Henry is walking down the hallway and already has Alex in his sights. He’s got one of those perfectly plucked eyebrows raised as he sees Alex by his door.

“Alex,” he says, approaching him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Well, Alex doesn’t know what to say now. “Uh, just wanted to say…thanks?” he says, stumbling through the words like he’s never spoken before.

“What for?”

Alex shrugs. “Saving my life, I guess. You defeated the creature?”

Henry nods, looking a bit proud of it but not wanting to come across as egotistical. “Yes. Not on my own, though. Pez and June did a great deal, too. And we found some sort of shell marked in ancient runes. I’ve just given it to Philip and your mentor to see if we can understand their meaning.”

Alex nods. This is getting awkward now, especially since they’re both standing in the hallway like a pair of perfect morons. “I should probably get going,” Alex sighs.

“Right, of course. Unless…”

“Unless what?” Alex asks quietly.

Henry looks unsure of himself for a moment before he stands up a bit straighter and sticks his chin out. “Unless you’d like to come inside. Maybe have a drink with me to celebrate.”

Alex grins. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Sure. That sounds…nice.”

Alex follows Henry into his chambers, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he does, Henry is pressing him against it and _kissing_ him. At first, Alex doesn’t even know what to do with himself. It’s something he’s wanted for a while now, desperately, but he never thought he would actually get it. And the reality of it is that Henry’s lips are soft and tentative against his own and that Henry smells ridiculously good. It’s making Alex’s brain go fuzzy.

Henry pulls back quickly, taking a step away from Alex and hanging his head. “Christ,” he mumbles, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s _okay_ , Henry. I––”

“No,” Henry says, shaking his head violently. “I shouldn’t––you don’t have to pretend you wanted or liked that. I just––I thought I would never be able to see you again, let alone have another chance to kiss you. And I…we can just forget about this. You can quit, if you’d like. I would understand. I’ve––”

In two steps, Alex is shutting him the fuck up.

There’s no hesitation here anymore. Alex knows exactly what he wants and, right now, all he wants is Henry. Henry in whatever way he can have him. There’s none of that chaste bullshit, either. As soon as Henry melts into the kiss, Alex is opening his mouth to deepen it––to explore every part of Henry he’s permitted to. From the movement of Henry’s body––the way it rolls against Alex’s, desperate for friction––Alex thinks that he’s permitted to every last inch of the Prince before him. So he takes advantage of it, grabbing a handful of Henry’s hair and moving his head back so Alex can leave a trail of kisses and bites down his neck. There’s something deeply thrilling about marking the Prince.

“Wait,” Henry gets out between moans.

Alex pauses, wondering if this is when Henry comes to his senses and makes Alex leave.

“Is this…why are you doing this?”

Alex frowns, running his fingers down Henry’s sides and making him shiver. “Because I want to,” Alex tells him. “Because I want you and, apparently, you want me, too.”

“Of course I bloody _want_ you, Alex,” Henry sighs, reaching out and rubbing his thumb along Alex’s jawline. “I just didn’t know you wanted _me_.”

“‘Course I do,” Alex tells him, not really sure why they’re talking about this when he could make this clear with his lips on Henry’s skin. “Now, can I get on with it?”

Henry kisses him quickly before pulling back again. “Go to dinner with me,” he whispers against Alex’s lips.

Alex can’t help but laugh. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Henry breathes, his eyes sparkling. “I like you. Please go to dinner with me?”

Alex can’t help but smile at him, especially when Henry looks so happy for once. “Yeah,” he beams. “I’ll go to dinner with you. Just…not tonight. I should probably go see Raf and let him know I’m okay.”

Henry nods in understanding. “Of course. Be careful, though. I think he was upset that you were a complete moron and took the blame.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I’ll handle it,” he promises. “And…us?”

“We’ll go to dinner,” Henry plots, “whenever you’d like. It will probably just be in here since…but you can pick whatever food you’d like and I’ll have the kitchen staff prepare it. And we can have some wine and…” he goes pink.

Alex likes the look for him. “And put that bed to good use?” he offers.

“Yes. Now go before I take you right here and now.”

The words send a shiver through Alex’s whole body. He reaches up and kisses Henry again, just for good measure. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. “First thing.”

He can’t wipe the smile off his face for the rest of the night. When he gets back to his chambers, Raf takes one look at him and thinks that he’s drunk or something. Alex doesn’t even care anymore; not when the feeling of Henry’s lips upon his own is still making his entire body tingle like this.

“I didn’t know they had brandy in the dungeon,” Raf chuckles, looking at the happy look on Alex’s face.

Alex rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, completely distracted by thoughts of Henry.

“Well, we figured out who put the creature there.”

That gets Alex’s attention. “Oh, the runes? What did they say?”

“It’s not so much what they said,” Raf says, showing him the shell, “as what they are. It’s the Mark of Mary.”

Alex feels his face scrunch up. “Who’s that?”

“A witch,” Raf says. “A very powerful, dark witch. A High Priestess, actually. Which means a witch with royal blood.”

Alex feels his stomach drop to the floor. “So she’s…related to Henry?”

“Mary is his grandmother. And it looks like she wants the throne.”

Alex puts his head in his hands as he tries to think through what this means. If she’s after the throne, that means that Philip must be the first one on her hit list. But then she’ll go after Henry because he’s second in line. And, _fuck_ , Alex doesn’t know how to stop someone with so much power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	20. The Gauntlet

When Henry wakes up the next morning, it’s to featherlight touches on his shoulders and the back of his neck. Sleep doesn’t want to part ways with him quite yet, so he simply lies there for a moment, eyes still closed, as the softest of fingertips explore his bare shoulders and soft lips explore his neck. It must be a dream, he figures, because no one he knows would wake him up in such a beautiful way with sweet touch and earnest adoration.

“Morning, sweetheart,” a familiar voice says.

It makes his eyes open, just so he can see if he’s right about the owner.

As it turns out, he is. And he really doesn’t mind this new wake-up call.

Alex used to throw his curtains open and have some sarcastic quip at the ready to get Henry out of bed, but he much prefers to wake up like this. To wake up when the dim morning light hits Alex just so, illuminating his features in sun-kissed glory. To see the unabashed adoration on Alex’s face when Henry turns to look at him with a ridiculous, lopsided grin on his face. And Alex returns the smile, running his fingertips down Henry’s arms. The movements are so careful––so beautiful and delicate––that it makes Henry want to cry. He’s never been touched like this before––touched like he’s valuable and breakable and loved.

“Morning,” he replies, kissing Alex’s cheek. “Is this how you’ll wake me every morning now?”

“Maybe,” Alex says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Depends on how that dinner goes.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “I should have known you were only into me for the promise of royal meals.”

Alex laughs in earnest, his smile wide and bright and beautiful. “Oh, totally. You would be, too, if you ever had to endure Raf’s cooking.” Alex’s face settles from a smile into something more serious. “You know I don’t actually care about that, right?”

Henry smiles at him again. He can’t help it. “I know.”

Alex kisses him softly for a moment. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he whispers as he pulls away.

Henry threads his hands into Alex’s hair, pulling him in for another kiss. “Me too. Since I met you.”

They stay in bed for a moment or too, happy to just be in each other’s company like this. It’s a warm moment and Henry would hate to drag himself out of bed, but he knows that he can’t simply remain here forever, no matter how much he wants to. He has things to do today––training with the knights and royal duties, probably. They all seem so unimportant when Alex looks at him like this, though. When his brown eyes are sparkling and full of something that Henry can’t quite put his finger on. Something good, he hopes. Something lovely.

“I’ve got training with the knights,” he sighs, rolling over and off the bed.

Alex groans and sits up, clearly wishing to spend the day here in the privacy of Henry’s chambers. “Fuck the knights.”

Henry laughs. “That’s treasonous.”

“No,” Alex huffs, “what’s _treasonous_ is that you have to go play Prince for the day without me. And I just have to be here and clean your room and try to figure out what to do about this High Priestess.”

Henry starts rummaging around his wardrobe to find clothing for the day. “Oh, right. Her.”

“What did you hear about her?”

Henry shrugs. “That she’s evil and my grandmother. I…I don’t remember much about her, honestly. I knew she was vile but my parents never really let me talk to her when she was here.”

He finds the shirt he wants and throws it on.

“No,” Alex protests. “Not a shirt!”

Henry turns and smiles at him. “Well, it’s hardly fair. I haven’t seen you without a shirt. Why should you get to see me without one first? Perhaps I’ll make it part of your uniform. No shirts allowed for my manservant.”

“Yeah, I bet your brother would _love_ that.”

Henry turns back to the wardrobe to find a pair of trousers and completely uninterested in talking about his brother right now. “Why do you care about my grandmother?”

“Because I want to help,” Alex sighs. “Because that’s my job.”

“I don’t think it is, actually. Unless she messes up my room.”

“Okay, well, still. I’m helping. I’ll look into it today while you’re off training. Maybe I’ll swing by the library and see what I can find about High Priestesses. You don’t mind killing her, right?”

“I suppose not, though I’d prefer we didn’t.”

“Right. So…getting rid of her magic. I’ll see what I can do.” He feels Alex’s arms wrap around his waist and he melts into the touch. “I’ll see you later, okay? And I’ll put the order in with the kitchen.”

Henry mumbles something that’s probably the closest thing to “okay” that he can manage with Alex pressed so close, his earthy smell driving Henry mad. How is he supposed to go train the knights when he knows Alex is out and about in the world? How is he supposed to get anything done ever again? Maybe he should hire a new manservant so Alex doesn’t feel obligated to be with him all the time or to handle his laundry and such. But maybe he should keep Alex in the position because that means they get more time together without it looking suspect to the King. Maybe he should just run away and take Alex with him. It certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

When he stumbles down to the training area set up on the lawn, all of the knights are there already. Pez is there, too, and plans on staying in Camelot for a while. Henry has a sneaking suspicion that the other Claremont-Diaz sibling is the reason for this decision, but he won’t say anything about it until Pez brings it up.

The beginning of training goes smoothly. There are a handful of new recruits who need to be brought down a notch or two, but it’s nothing time and some dueling won't solve. The rest of the knights, the ones he’s already worked with, are helpful in scaring the new ones into submission which makes Henry’s job a bit easier. When it’s noon and the sun is high in the sky, Henry is about to call it a day when a dark figure approaches them. He’s on horseback and dressed in black armor and a blood-red cloak. His face is hidden by his helmet and they have absolutely no idea who he is for his crest is one Henry is not familiar with. It’s some sort of elephant with stars. He’s never seen anything so strange.

“Prince Henry,” the man says, his voice deep.

Henry looks up at him, wondering what he could possibly want. “That’s me.”

“Come with me.”

Henry can’t help but laugh. “Why would I do that?”

The man removes a gauntlet and throws it onto the lawn. Henry sticks his chin out and bends down to grab it, but Pez snatches it before he’s able to.

“I, Sir Percy, accept your challenge,” Pez says.

Henry is shaking his head and reaching for the gauntlet in Pez’s arms as soon as Pez opens his blasted mouth. “Pez, I––”

“Tomorrow,” the man says. “Noon.”

He rides off again before Henry can ask him any of the thousands of questions piling up in his mind. But Pez is still here and holding the gauntlet, so at least Henry can voice some of his concerns to him.

“What were you _thinking_?” Henry demands.

“I was thinking that I’d save your life!”

Henry growls in frustration and kicks at the earth. “You’re not even a knight of Camelot,” he hisses. “You had _no_ right to take that gauntlet!”

Pez rolls his eyes, clearly upset that Henry isn’t just grateful for this. “I may not be a knight of Camelot, but I’m your friend. As your friend, it’s my duty to protect you.”

Henry growls and, upon realizing that this is an un-winnable battle for him, he storms off. If there’s something off about this strange man, Henry wants to know so he can prepare Pez for it. So he goes to the Throne Room to find his brother, hoping that he might recognize the strange crest the man wore.

“Henry,” Philip says as Henry enters the room. “Shouldn’t you be training your knights?”

“We were interrupted,” he says, approaching the throne, “by a man wearing a forgone crest. He threw down a gauntlet for me to collect but Pez beat me to it. They’re to fight tomorrow at noon.”

Philip frowns as he takes in Henry’s words. “What sort of crest?”

“Uh, an elephant. With stars, I think.”

Philip’s eyes widen at the description which does nothing to soothe Henry’s already anxious mind. If the description has got Philip in such a state, he can only assume that this man means to bring nothing but destruction and evil to Camelot.

“You know it?” Henry asks.

Philip nods. “I––You cannot fight him,” Philip warns.

“I told you that Pez took the gauntlet. But I believe he wanted to fight me.”

“Do not, under any circumstances, trust this man.”

Henry raises an eyebrow. “Why? Who is he?”

“A man that will, given the chance, tear the kingdom apart. He was a respected knight once, as was his father. He left when our grandmother was banished.”

Henry frowns, not understanding what this means. “If he’s a knight––”

“He is no longer a knight,” Philip snaps. “He is in league with our grandmother who means to ruin this kingdom and take back the crown. You are not to speak to him or take his gauntlet if it is offered again. Do you understand me?”

Henry nods but, of course, does not mean it. He cannot make such a promise when it means certain death for his friend. He will find this man––this former knight––and see what he can do to stop this fight from happening tomorrow. If it’s Henry the man wants, it’s Henry the man shall get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	21. Listen to the Fucking Dragon, Alex (Jesus Christ!)

When Alex goes up to Henry’s chambers after training, he’s expecting to have a nice little break with him before more of his royal duties take him away again. What’s he’s not expecting is Henry to look frazzled as he paces nervously and looks out the window like they’re a ghost out there or something. Alex is hesitant to enter once he sees Henry like this because he has absolutely no idea if Henry even wants Alex here during something like this. If it’s royal business, Henry probably can’t tell Alex much about it, anyway.

Alex is about to just turn around and leave completely when Henry stops pacing and looks at him with wide blue eyes and furrowed brows. Alex wants to smooth the crease with his thumb.

“Oh, Alex,” Henry says.

Alex bites his lip nervously. “Uh, hi. Do you want me to come back later or something? You seem…in the middle of something.”

“Sorry. I just…it’s been a long day.”

Alex can’t help but laugh. “It’s barely past noon.”

Henry doesn’t seem to find this funny, though. “Pez is going to duel someone tomorrow.”

Alex doesn’t understand what this means. From what he knows of knights, dueling seems pretty common. “Uh, okay? Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”

Henry sighs and sits down on the chair by the desk. “It’s not a normal duel. It’s with a man who made it clear he wanted me for something, but then Pez was a proper idiot and took the gauntlet before I could.”

“And you don’t think Pez can beat him?”

“That’s not it,” he sighs. “I asked about him and, according to my brother, he’s in league with my grandmother.”

“The evil and magical one?”

Henry nods pitifully. “The same.”

Alex comes over and hops onto the desk, facing Henry. After a moment, he realizes that, for the first time, he’s got the height advantage now. He tries to keep his smirk at bay, though, for the sake of this seemingly serious conversation. “So…what’s the deal?” Henry shrugs, clearly upset about all of this. Alex reaches down and across the space between them, taking one of Henry’s hands in his own. “You can tell me stuff, you know? Let me help you.”

Henry smiles weakly and gives Alex’s hand a squeeze. “I don’t think you can,” he whispers. “I think this is something I have to do on my own.”

“Do _what_ , exactly?”

“Find him. He wanted me to go with him when he approached us and––”

Alex is shaking his head in an instant. “Henry, _no_. You can’t just go off with him. What if he wants to hurt you? No, scratch that. We pretty much _know_ that he wants to hurt you.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to go if I want to save Pez.”

Alex sighs, trying to run through a bunch of different options for how to handle this. What can he say to make Henry understand that this is a terrible idea? What can he say to make Henry stay here where he’s safe? But when he looks at Henry, a part of him knows that Henry will do whatever it takes to protect his friends. Hell, he and Alex weren’t even really friends when he dropped everything to save Austin for Alex. He’s too good––his heart is too big to allow his friend to get himself into danger. If he can stop it, he will. Alex knows that much.

“I’m coming with you,” Alex decides, “but we’re not going right now.”

Henry raises an eyebrow at him. “But I––”

“Nope. We’re going tomorrow morning. First, I’m going to go look into this guy while you’re in that meeting. Then we’re gonna have a nice dinner together. Tomorrow morning, we find him. But it’ll be dark soon and I doubt that you’ll want to face him in the middle of the night.”

Henry looks at him for a moment with those big blue eyes and he feels, for a moment, like he might just melt into his arms. But then he nods and smiles sheepishly and Alex returns the smile full-force. It feels, somehow, completely natural for them to be like this now. Even though it’s been less than a day of this––whatever _this_ is––Alex knows that he’s never felt safer than when he’s here with Henry. Maybe that’s foolish because, if Henry finds out about his magic, he would be promptly executed, but still. When he’s here with Henry, nothing in the world can touch him. Because Henry’s right here in front of him, clearly alive and well. Not off bleeding nor finding scary men in the woods. He’s just… _here_. Here and happy.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Henry asks, cocking his head to the side and furrowing his brow.

Alex sighs and hops off the table, straddling Henry in his chair. Henry’s hands instantly come up to support him by grabbing his ass. It makes Alex’s body feel tingly and magical.

“Because…” he says, admiring Henry’s features from the practically nonexistent distance between them. “I’m taller than you right now.”

Henry laughs and kisses him.

It’s a soft kiss, but Alex doesn’t mind. It makes him feel valuable and sacred. Something precious and irreplaceable. To be kissed like this––like he truly matters––makes his heart flutter in his chest. It makes him tingle to the very tips of his toes and fingers.

“What was that for?” he asks, his eyes still closed as he recalls the fleeting feeling of Henry’s lips on his own.

“For being you,” Henry tells him with a smile before he kisses the tip of Alex’s nose. “And because I’m very excited to have dinner with you tonight.”

“Same,” Alex agrees. “But, right now, you have a meeting and I have to go see about this mysterious guy. Any important information that could help me figure it out?”

“Uh, yes, actually,” Henry says with a frown. “Both he and his father were knights here. The crest was an elephant with stars. Maybe it will be in the noble registry book in the castle library? Though, since he left with my grandmother, it’s entirely possible that all records of him have been removed.”

“I’ll check it out,” Alex promises. “And I’ll see you for dinner.”

Despite his promise, Alex does _not_ go to the stuffy library. The librarian is old and hates him and the books are covered in dust––which he’s allergic to––so there’s really just nothing appealing about it. Even if, by some chance, the record of this mysterious man still existed there, why would Alex go to the boring old library when he could simply pay a visit to a friend? So he does just that, lighting a flame in his palm as he makes his way down the familiar stairs to the deepest depths of the castle. When he arrives, a familiar face is already there to greet him.

“I did not expect to see you so soon,” the dragon admits as Alex reveals himself from the shadows.

“I need your help.”

The dragon laughs. “Do you? Last time you asked for my assistance, you ignored every word.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Because your advice was bullshit! Raf would have _died_ if I hadn’t told them it was me. And, look! Everything worked out, didn’t it?”

“What do you need this time?”

“There’s a mysterious guy,” Alex explains. “The man wanted Henry for something but, when Henry didn’t go with him, he threw down his gauntlet. Pez got it first so he has to fight this guy tomorrow.”

“And who is this stranger?”

Alex shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s a former knight of Camelot and he wears a crest with, uh, stars and an elephant on it? That’s what Henry told me, anyway.”

The dragon looks scared at the description.

“What? Do you know something?”

It nods. “You cannot, under any circumstances, allow Henry to meet with this man.”

“Why? Who is he?”

“He is a man who is working with the High Priestess. He knows certain information that Henry cannot hear if there is to be any hope for the future.”

Alex furrows his brow, hating how cryptic all of this is. “What information?”

The dragon seems tentative and unsure, clearly not wanting to divulge whatever information this is. If Alex is going to save Henry from whatever this is, he needs to know everything. He needs to know what he’s up against so he knows how to stop it.

“You have to tell me,” Alex demands, “because I can’t go in blind.”

The dragon sighs, giving in. “He knows the true nature of Arthur’s death.”

“Who’s Arthur?”

The dragon stares at him for a moment like he thinks Alex is joking. He’s not. “The former King. Henry’s father.”

Alex takes in a shaky breath. He hasn’t heard much about Henry’s father––he hardly talks about him. From what he’s heard of it, it was magic that killed him. The crazy grandmother, probably, since she was banished after his death. But he thinks that Henry already knows as much. It’s the reason he hates magic––the reason his entire family hates magic.

“He was killed, wasn’t he? By Mary?”

The dragon shakes its mighty head. “No,” the dragon tells him. “He wasn’t.” The dragon takes a deep breath. “Magic can do so many things, but the one thing it absolutely cannot do is bring someone back from the dead. Not without a price.”

This all sounds like cryptic gibberish to Alex. “What’s that mean?”

“Henry was ill,” the dragon explains. “The plague. He was a dead man and his father made the ultimate sacrifice to save his life.”

“By trading his own for Henry’s,” Alex realizes in a shocked whisper. But this doesn’t make sense to him. “Okay, so, if this guy––”

“Jeffery,” the dragon adds.

“Okay, so if Jeffery knows this and plans on telling Henry, what’s the goal? Why tell him?”

“Because Philip is the only one that knows this as well.”

Alex feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. “Jesus,” he mumbles. “Henry might kill him for keeping this from him. That’s what Jeffery and Mary want, isn’t it? For them to kill each other?”

The dragon nods and probably opens its mouth to say something else, but Alex is already springing into action. It’s nearly time for dinner, anyway, so he needs to get dressed and go find Henry. If he can help him forget about all of this, maybe Henry won’t go. Maybe Henry will just enjoy the dinner and then Pez will fight and win tomorrow. Or, maybe, Alex should brush up on any spells that might help Pez win tomorrow. If this man is truly a challenging foe, Pez might need all the help he can get.

Alex rushes up to his room and closes the door, quickly stripping so he can figure out something suitable to wear for dinner. He’s already told June to bring the dinner up to Henry’s chambers––he claimed Henry had a date. So he’s got time to figure out which of his few shirts might be appropriate.

He decides on a white one––his nicest one that was his father’s. He pulls on a fresh pair of pants, his only boots, and his father’s leather jacket. He studies his reflection in the mirror, wondering if he looks good enough to have dinner with a fucking _prince_. He decides he doesn’t. It’s his hair, he thinks. His hair is mussed and messy. So he closes his eyes and mutters an incantation to fix it. When he opens his eyes, his hair looks the exact fucking same.

Great.

He leaves his room, vacantly wondering where Raf is and what he’s up to, before heading to Henry’s chambers. On his way up, he realizes that he probably should have brought something but, given the time restraints, he didn’t manage to get anything. He smirks to himself as he conjures up a bouquet of flowers––the sweetest smelling ones he could think of.

The door to Henry’s chambers is in sight now. He takes a deep breath, straightens his posture, and knocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear i'm still alive! 
> 
> as always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	22. To Ruin a Relationship

It’s a cold night. Henry regrets not grabbing a thicker cloak but he didn’t really have much time to think about it. After his Council meeting, he went straight to the stables and grabbed his horse to find this man with the star and elephant crest. He doesn’t care who the man is working for––he just knows that he needs to find him if he’s going to save Pez’s life. So he ventures deep into the woods, hoping that the man will be waiting for him here. There’s a clearing not far from the citadel. A clearing that, if the man really was a knight, would know about and probably make camp in. As it turns out, he’s right. When he approaches the clearing, there’s a fire and a tent set up there with a man sitting by it. He’s taken off his helmet and armor now and, from the looks of it, he’s just a normal man. A little on the older side, maybe, but normal.

“I was beginning to wonder if you would come,” the man tells him.

Henry, who has his sword in his hands, sheaths it. The man is clearly no threat to him now. “I refuse to let my friend die for me.”

The man smiles at him––an unnerving, stomach-churning smile. “She said you would make that choice.”

She, very clearly, means his grandmother. He bites his lip. “What do you want from me?”

“Me? Nothing. She has a gift for you, actually.”

Henry can’t help but roll his eyes. While he may not actively remember much about his grandmother, he knows that he doesn’t want whatever gift this is. “I don’t want it,” Henry huffs. He starts to turn away to leave, utterly done with this nonsense.

“Interesting. I mean, I would personally give just about anything to speak to my father again.”

That makes Henry stop in his tracks. He turns around abruptly. “What?”

The man smiles like he knew Henry would change his mind at the mention of his father. “So you do want to speak to him?”

He shakes his head. He may not know much about magic, but he knows the limits of it. The rules of magic have been around since the dawn of time––everyone knows them. Even those who hate it like he does. “Even magic can’t bring people back from the dead.”

The man smiles again and it still makes Henry feel sick to his stomach. “Who said anything about bringing him back from the dead?”

The man gets up and walks into the tent without another word. Henry remains outside, not knowing if he should follow him. There’s no question––of _course_ he wants to talk to his father. But he doesn’t understand how this can be possible. There’s no reason he can think of for his grandmother to do this. If she wants the throne, how does giving Henry time with his father help her with that? Clearly, this is all part of her game. He just doesn’t understand how the pieces fit together or what his next move should be. Even if this is a trap, it’s a trap he will willingly walk into. He’ll do anything to see his father again. Even if it’s just for a few minutes. Even if he doesn’t like what he hears.

He follows the man inside the tent, looking around for danger as he enters. There’s a blanket and pillow in the corner and, in the center, some sort of basin filled with glowing water. It’s enchanting to look at how the light reflects and swirls off of its surface.

“Water from the Lake of Avalon,” the man says, gesturing to the basin.

Henry moves closer to get a better look at it. To him, it just looks like water. Magical water, yes, but nothing harmful. He looks up at the man with a raised eyebrow. “Why does she want me to talk to him? What’s in it for her?”

“Your happiness,” the man says.

Henry snorts. “Really?”

“We don’t have to do this,” he shrugs. “If you don’t want to talk to your father, we––”

“No,” Henry snaps. “I–– _Please_. Let me see him.”

The man bows his head and reveals some sort of vial from his cloak, dropping the mysterious liquid into the basin. The water swirls around itself before it moves upwards, defying the laws of gravity. It twists and turns in the air like tendrils as it climbs through the air and turns in on itself until, standing before Henry in the basin, is Arthur.

“My son,” Arthur smiles.

Henry feels the wind get knocked out of him at the sound of his father’s voice. “ _Father_.” With a surge of emotions, Henry rushes forward to hug him but his hands go right through him. He forgot that the man standing before him is only made of magical water––that he’s not actually here.

“Look at you,” Arthur beams. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you.”

Henry wipes tears from his eyes and lets out a watery laugh. “It’s been five years. I––I’ve missed you so much. Words cannot begin to describe it.”

His father smiles at him and Henry remembers how that smile used to make even the darkest days seem light again. “Is your mother looking after you? Is she leading the kingdom?”

Henry shakes his head. “I haven’t seen her in ages,” he admits. “When Gran murdered you, she––”

His father’s features contort. It’s hard to read since he’s made of water, but Henry thinks it’s confusion. “Murdered me?”

He swallows a lump in his throat and nods. “Yes. With magic. For the crown.”

“Haz, she didn’t kill me.”

Henry’s eyes widen. “What? Philip said––”

“Philip lied to you, then. Oh, Henry, she didn’t murder me. I went to _her_. I asked _her_ to use magic, even though I knew it would kill me.”

“I don’t understand,” Henry cries. “Why would you ask her to use magic if it would kill you? What could possibly justify such a trade?”

His father smiles at him softly––so softly that Henry feels like he might fall apart. “For _you_.”

The world feels like it’s falling to pieces around him. The air is too thick. Everything is covered in smoke. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what this means. These past five years, Philip’s told him that his father died because their grandmother killed him with magic. These past five years, Henry has hated magic with a burning passion for taking his father’s life before its time. But now he doesn’t know what to believe anymore. Obviously, he will always believe his father. Until the day Henry dies, he will hang on every word his father tells him. But then why did Philip tell him these lies? Why did Philip want him to believe something else?

“What do you mean?”

“You were sick,” his father sighs. “Terribly ill with the plague. You were on your deathbed, son. And I couldn’t watch you die. Not before your time. So I called in your gran who warned me of the consequences. And your brother begged me not to. He told me it wasn’t worth it––that magic did more harm than good. But you were dying, my boy, and I wouldn’t stand for it. So I traded my life for yours. And it’s a trade I would gladly make over and over again if it meant you got to live. I love you, Haz. More than anything.”

As he says these words, his features start to fade as they’re reabsorbed into the water. Henry cries out and reaches for him, but his fingers slip through the water as it splashes back into the basin.

“Bring him back!” he demands, sobbing as he grabs at the water just to see it drip through his fingers. “I had more to say! I didn’t tell him I loved him! Bring him _back_!”

He repeats those words as he cries, sinking to the floor and wrapping his arms around the basin. The man watches him from the corner of the tent, allowing him to grieve. It feels like losing him all over again. Or maybe it feels like he’s losing him in a different way now. He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling right now, only that he’s angry and confused and heartbroken.

“ _Please_ ,” he begs, another sob ripping through him. “Just…just bring him back. Just so I can tell him I love him.”

“I can’t,” the man says, his voice dripping with emotion. “I’m sorry.”

“Please?” Henry asks in a whisper, looking up at him.

He shakes his head. “The only thing you can do is get justice.”

Henry wipes his eyes. “Justice?”

“Your brother has lied to you for the past five years,” the man explains. “He manipulated you. He used your father’s death as a way to keep you under his control.”

Suddenly, it’s all very clear to him. The man is right––this is Philip’s fault. If Philip had told him this sooner, he would have been able to _fix_ this. He would have traded his life for his father’s long ago when he still had the chance. But Philip took that chance from him. And Philip used his father’s death to get Henry to bend to his will and allow him to be such a vicious king. Well, no more.

He storms out of the tent and mounts his horse, commanding it to carry him quickly to Camelot. There’s nothing but anger in him now––anger that he’s going to use to do something he should have done long ago. Anger that will drive him to do the right thing. Anger that will help him kill Philip.

When he arrives in the citadel outside of the castle, he hops off his horse and leaves it in the courtyard. He unsheathes his sword and storms up the steps, throwing the doors open. The anger is practically blurring his vision, but he makes it to the throne room. The doors are open and, even from the corridor, he sees Philip seated on the throne with some document in his hand. He practically growls at the sight of it.

“Close the door,” Henry growls to the knights standing guard, “and leave us.”

They look nervously at him and then at his sword. “Your Highness––”

“Do as I say,” he commands. “My brother and I need to have a long over-due discussion.”

The guards nod and close the door after he enters.

He locks it from the inside so no one can enter. “Hello, brother.”

Philip looks up from his document and at Henry with a sword in his hand. “Henry? What’s this about?”

Henry tightens his grip on the blade. “You lied to me,” he hisses.

Philip discards the document and stands up. “When did I lie to you? What are you talking about?”

Henry takes a bold step forward, raising his sword. “Father,” he snaps. “You told me Gran killed him in cold blood. You told me she murdered him with magic.”

Philip nods and takes a step forward, clearly thinking that he can sweet-talk his way out of this. “She did.”

Henry shakes his head. He knows better than to listen to these lies. “He died to save me!” he shouts.

Philip stills as his eyes widen. “Who told you that?”

“You don’t deny it?”

“Who told you that?” Philip shouts.

“You manipulated me,” Henry seethes. “You used his death as a way to bend me to your will. To keep me quiet!”

With a cry, Henry races forward with his blade out, ready to kill Philip for this. Philip is quick to get his own blade and defend the attack.

“This isn’t you,” Philip says, shoving Henry away.

Henry won’t be stopped so easily. He attacks again and again, swinging his blade mercilessly. “It is now.”

He keeps attacking Philip with all the strength he can muster, but Philip is quick to evade him. But Henry knocks Philip’s blade out of his hand, sending it to the ground. Now Philip is defenseless. Now Henry can get justice.

He sets the tip of his weapon on Philip’s chest, ready to drive it through his heart.

The door bursts open behind him.

“Henry!” a familiar voice calls.

He doesn’t dare turn around. He keeps his eyes on Philip. He pushes the blade against his chest, ready to sink it in completely.

“Henry, stop! You’ll kill him!”

“That’s what I have to do!” Henry shouts, his eyes still on Philip. He presses the blade in more, drawing blood. Philip hisses but says nothing.

There’s a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t want to do this,” the voice says. “You don’t want to kill him.”

He shakes his head.

“Everything you heard was a lie,” the voice tells him. “None of it was real. It was just Mary trying to make you do this. Don’t you see? This is what she _wants_. It wasn’t _real_ , Henry. It wasn’t real.”

Henry lets Alex’s words sink in. They pull him out of this stupor and make him drop the blade. He hears it clatter to the floor as a new wave of tears spill out. Alex pulls him against his chest, holding him there where he can’t hurt Philip.

“It’s okay,” Alex tells him, stroking his hair. “I’ve got you. You didn’t hurt him. You’re okay.”

He nods against Alex’s chest, burying his face in the fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you,” he hears Philip say.

“I’ll get him upstairs,” Alex replies. “You should call Raf about that cut.”

Alex helps him to his feet and, with an arm around Henry’s shoulder, guide him up to his chambers. Henry’s hands are shaking, even when Alex sets him down on the sofa and gives him a glass of water.

“I almost hurt him,” Henry whispers as he looks down at the water. “I almost killed him.”

“But you didn’t,” Alex reminds him softly, taking a cloth to his face. There must be dirt on it or something––dirt Alex is now patiently cleaning off.

“I should have waited for you,” Henry admits. “I shouldn’t have gone alone. I––Oh, Christ, I missed our dinner, didn’t I?”

Alex nods and sets the cloth aside. “You should rest, Your Highness.”

Henry shakes his head. “No,” he begs, “please. Don’t start calling me that again. I’m still Henry. I’m still the man you kissed. I’m still me.”

Alex doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Drink some water. You’ll feel better.”

Henry feels more tears threatening to spill over. “Alex,” he begs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have gone alone.”

He watches as Alex stands and moves over to the bed, preparing it for Henry’s sleep.

“Alex?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he sighs, fluffing a pillow. “You could have died. You knew that. I told you that. And yet, you went. Without protection. Without me.”

A few tears make their way down Henry’s cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Please forgive me. I was so foolish.”

Alex comes back over and offers him a hand. Henry takes it, thinking that he can make all of this better now, but Alex just pulls him up and guides him over to the bed. “Yeah, you were. And I…I can’t forgive you. Not tonight.”

Henry crawls into bed and watches as Alex pulls the blankets up over him.

“Stay?” he asks.

Alex shakes his head. “Goodnight, Your Highness. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Speechless, he watches as Alex leaves, blowing out the candles on his way out.

When he’s gone, Henry lets himself cry completely, not caring about the tears running down his face. He knows he messed up. He knows he was a complete idiot tonight. He just hopes that, somehow, he can fix this. He just got Alex to let him in completely––he can’t believe he’s already messed it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops


	23. The Poisoned Chalice

It’s impossible for Alex to even know how long it’s been since things have been normal with Henry. After Henry went to talk to the man––Jeffery Richards––he and Alex haven’t spoken. Not in the same way, at least. Not with longing looks and soft kisses to fill the silences. It’s been some amount of time since things felt normal and good between them and, even though Alex knows that it’s his fault, he isn’t willing to put it all behind him yet. At this point, he’s feeling a bit torn. Knowing all that he does about destiny and the future of the kingdom, he feels uncertain if he’ll be able to actually help see any of it through. How is he supposed to save Henry when Henry is so very good at putting himself in danger? It’s not like Alex can be by his side for every minute of everyday to protect him from himself. If Henry wants to jeopardize the future of Camelot by being a dumbass, well, there’s nothing Alex can do to stop him. 

Raf, June, and Nora have all commented on his sour mood, but he doesn’t dignify that with a response. For the most part, he just sort of grunts and walks away from ay conversation that feels like it might dare to enter the “feelings category.” He refuses to talk about his feelings. How could he when he doesn’t even know _what_ he’s feeling? Sometimes, on days like today, he wishes there was someone he could talk to about all of this. He doesn’t really want to tell June or Nora yet, though, because he feels like they might try to talk him out of doing anything else with Henry. Or, maybe, they would try to convince him to leave Camelot all together. The thought of leaving this destiny and Henry makes him feel sick to his stomach––he won’t even let himself think about it. 

Today is a particularly hard day because there’s some sort of fancy feast or celebration tonight. Normally, such an event wouldn’t even enter Alex’s thoughts, but he has to get Henry ready for the feast. Which means touching him. Which means being close enough to smell the goddamn princely scent of his that drives Alex up the fucking wall. It’s impossible to ignore someone when you’re helping them get dressed. 

“You don’t have to,” Henry says when Alex holds out the clothing he’s supposed to wear for the night. 

Alex sighs. “I do, actually. We both know you wouldn’t be able to get into this without help. Shit’s complicated.” 

Henry chuckles weakly as he removes his shirt, waiting for Alex to slide the fancier one over his head. And Alex can’t help but stare at him for a moment––at those chiseled lines on his stomach that are probably from years of sword fighting and rigorous training. He can’t help but look at the scar across Henry’s right side––the scar that he’s never asked about. 

“So…” Henry says, cocking his head and looking at Alex with an odd and indecipherable expression on his stupid, pretty face. 

Alex huffs, ignores the heat rising to his cheeks, and slides the shirt over Henry’s head. “Uh, what’s the feast for, anyway?” 

Henry rolls his eyes. “Some silly celebration. A treaty signing, I believe. Philip arranged the whole thing––it’s mostly just to make people think he can play nicely with others. I doubt either of them will hold up their ends of the bargain.” 

Alex nods like he understands.

Henry removes his pants so he’s in nothing but his shirt and his underwear. Alex very pointedly does not look down. He holds the pants open and turns his head away as Henry steps into them. As soon as Henry’s stepped into them, Alex stands and starts to lace them up, trying very hard not to think about what his hands are near right now.   
“Peace is always good, though,” he says to distract himself from the task at hand. 

“I suppose. I mean, he _is_ the Once and Future King.” 

Alex looks up at Henry with furrowed brows. “What?” 

Alex may not know a lot about life in Camelot and the various rulers and such, but he knows destiny. He knows that the universe has big plans for Henry––not for Philip. He knows that Henry is the Once and Future King and that it’s his job to make sure Henry actually lives to see that day. It’s the only thing he can hold onto these days––the only thing he knows for sure. 

“There’s a legend––”

“It’s not a legend,” Alex finds himself saying, clearly very defensive. It’s _his_ thing, after all. Magic. The prophecy. Destiny. “It’s an ancient prophecy. Old as magic itself.”

Henry tenses at the word “magic.” “Yes, well. Anyway, it speaks of a king that will unite the lands. A king who will bring about a time of peace.” 

“And your brother thinks that he’s the one they’re talking about?” 

“I suppose. I think it’s why he’s trying so hard with this treaty, even though King William is a bloody poisoner.” 

“A poisoner?” Alex asks, retrieving the fancy belt and wrapping it around Henry’s waist.

“Yes. He’s known for poisoning his enemies. They never see it coming, apparently.” 

Alex can’t help but chuckle at it for the idea seems utterly ridiculous. This is why he doesn’t trust Royals––they can be known killers and still face no consequences. They can be proud murderers and still reign. The fact of the matter is that they disgust him. He’s always been disgusted by them. But Henry…well, he thought Henry was different. He thought Henry put other people before himself. And he was wrong about that, he thinks. Because Henry only cares about himself and what’s good for him just like every other Royal Alex has the displeasure of knowing. Maybe Alex can find some other warlock to give his destiny to. Surely there’s someone out there that would be thrilled to come save the Prince’s life, right? Someone that could actually stomach all of this bullshit? 

“Kings are bullshit,” Alex mumbles, fastening the belt. 

“Agreed,” Henry says solemnly. 

Alex grabs the fancy cloak that Henry’s supposed to wear for tonight and goes to put it around him, but Henry grabs his wrist and stops him.

“I hope you know that, if I were ever to become King, I would never behave like Philip does,” he admits softly with those fucking blue eyes staring deep into Alex’s soul. “I think I’d be a fair and just leader. Someone who cares for the people more than he cares for himself.” 

Alex swallows a lump in his throat and removes himself from Henry’s grasp, fastening the cloak around him. “Yeah. I used to think that, too.” 

A heavy silence fills the space between them for a moment––the tension so tangible that Alex feels like he could reach out and grab it. 

He doesn’t, though. Instead, he clears his throat and straightens his posture. “I’ll see you at the feast,” he says, backing away, “Your Highness.” 

On his way to the feast half an hour later, he’s so deep in his thoughts that he accidentally runs headfirst into someone. He shakes the thoughts out of his head and looks down to see who he’s just run into and finds a young woman on the ground, frantically trying to pick up what look like linens. 

He crouches down to help her. “I’m sorry,” he offers, folding the linens, “that was my fault.” 

The woman shakes her head and, for a moment, there’s something strangely _familiar_ about her. Her nose, Alex thinks. It reminds him of Henry’s. “No need to apologize,” she sniffles, “it was probably my fault.”

“Have we met before?” Alex asks, handing her the linens. 

She shakes her head. “No. I’m one of King William’s servants.”

Alex chuckles. “Oh, the poisoner?” 

She pales. “Who told you?” 

“Told me what?” 

“That he…” she looks around for a moment at the deserted hallway before turning back to Alex. “That he’s poisoned the chalice?”

Alex has no fucking idea what she’s talking about. “Uh, what chalice?”

She shakes her head like she’s having some weird internal debate about telling him the rest of this. “He would kill me if he knew I told you,” she warns. 

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Alex promises, feeling pretty certain that he’ll be able to protect her from whatever harm might befall her. 

“He’s…he’s poisoned the Prince’s chalice. He means to kill him.” 

Alex’s heart races in his chest at the mere thought of someone trying to kill Henry. He shakes his head because it _can’t_ be true this time. Why would King William want to kill Henry? They’re about to sign a treaty for peace––why kill the Prince of Camelot at a celebration for peace between their kingdoms? It doesn’t make any sense to him but, by the time he pulls himself together enough to ask for more information, the woman is gone. He’s alone in the hallway and scared absolutely fucking shitless that something really bad is about to happen. 

Well, not on his watch. Even if Henry was being a dick. 

He races into the large hall just in time to see all members of each Royal family raise their chalices to their lips to drink for a toast or something. 

“No!” Alex screams, unsure of what else he can do to stop Henry from bringing that damned thing to his (very kissable) lips. He marches forward, filled completely with unwarranted courage and certainty. “King William poisoned Henry’s chalice.” 

The diners gasp at the accusation as King William’s men pull out their swords in defense. The knights are faster though, and outnumber them three to one. 

“How _dare_ you?” King William bellows. 

“What reason do you have for such an accusation?” Philip inquires, glaring at Alex. 

Alex takes a step forward. “Someone told me. One of his servants. Plus,” he adds, “he’s known for poisoning people.” 

“Indeed,” King William seethes, “my _enemies_. Why would I poison Prince Henry? This is outrageous.” 

Alex doesn’t say a word because, truly, he has no answer to that question. All he knows is that he won’t take any chances––not when it’s Henry’s life on the line. 

“I agree,” Philip nods. “But, if it _poisoned_ , I think we’d all like to know. So, servant, since you’re so sure of yourself, drink it.” 

“Philip––” Henry growls, obviously not liking this one bit.

Philip, ignoring Henry, takes the chalice and hands it to Alex. “Drink it,” he demands. “If it’s poisoned, you can die knowing that you saved the Prince’s life.” 

“And if it’s not?” King William asks. 

“Then you can keep him,” Philip decides, “and do with him what you will.” 

“Philip, you can’t be serious,” Henry argues. 

“I am,” Philip hisses, shooting a glare Henry’s way. He turns back to Alex. “Drink.” 

Alex looks down at the beautiful chalice in his hand––at the ornate carvings on it and the wine within. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then looks directly at Henry while he brings it to his lips. He braces himself for the poison––for the pain that is sure to come with having ingested it. 

But nothing comes. 

“It’s fine,” he says, stunned. 

Henry sighs in relief. 

Alex grins at him, happy to be alive until King William probably kills him. But then he feels it. 

It starts as a tightening in his throat. It feels like his throat is shutting and he can’t get any air. It sends shooting pain through his body for a moment before the combination of the two make the world go dark around him. 

The last thing he registers is the sound of the chalice clinking as it hits the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow i'm still alive! wow!
> 
> sorry for the hiatus!
> 
> as always, I'm @bibliothesoph on Tumblr!


	24. The Most Important Quest of All

Watching Alex’s late reaction to the poison makes Henry freeze in his tracks. The way his body goes rigid––the way he tugs at his throat like he can’t get air. The way his eyes go wide for a moment before rolling back and closing completely before his entire body collapses from under him. The chalice clatters to the floor when he falls to the ground and, through all the gasps, Henry hears the crack of Alex’s head as it hits the stone floor. Only then, once Alex’s body is on the ground, does his body let him move again. In an instant, he’s rushing to his side to see if there’s anything he can do to help or if Alex is beyond this world already. 

The sound of him hitting the floor rings in his ears even when Henry crouches down next to him and he’s silent––just barely breathing, just barely alive. From the looks of it, he hit his head on the way down which really can’t be a good thing, especially in addition to the poison flowing through his veins. Henry doesn’t dare touch him––doesn’t dare make this any worse than it already is. Alex literally just risked his life for Henry’s which, given recent developments, seems absurd and insane but means that, maybe, Alex _doesn’t_ actually hate him. Of course, that won’t matter if Alex doesn’t _survive_.

“Help,” Henry cries, still crouching by Alex’s limp body. Alex’s face is contorted in pain and Henry can’t even imagine what he must be feeling right now. 

Rafael appears from the crowd with June and Nora by his side, all looking equally upset and terrified. It’s a relief, honestly, because everyone else is just silently watching this unfold like idiots. Can’t they see that Alex is dying? Can’t they see that he needs help? 

“We need to get him to my chambers,” Rafael instructs. 

Henry nods and puts one hand around Alex’s head, the other around his legs. He picks him up effortlessly and stands with Alex draped in his arms. “I’ve got him,” he assures Rafael. When Rafael turns to give orders to June and Nora, Henry pulls Alex closer, refusing to let go. “I’ve got you.” 

“June, grab the chalice. I’ll need it to identify the poison.” 

June reaches down and grabs the damned thing before the four of them––with Alex safe in Henry’s arms––rush out of the room. Henry moves quickly but cautiously as to not further injure Alex. As he maneuvers Alex down corridors and through archways, he feels tears sting his eyes at the fear that this might be it––that Alex might not be able to come back from this. Before today, before right now, it was an impossible thought. Even though Alex is, on occasion, incredibly foolish and self-sacrificing, Henry always assumed that he was untouchable. He never stays down long, even when the odds are against him. But here he is––limp in Henry’s arms––and Henry is terrified that he might die. Terrified that Alex will die while they’re still in this silly fight about Henry’s stupidity. Terrified that Alex will die without knowing how deeply Henry cares for him. 

“Set him down on the cot,” Rafael demands as soon as they enter his chambers. 

Henry nods and does what he’s told, setting Alex down on the cot and pulling the thin blankets up around him. When he looks down at him, Henry notices the beads of sweat on his brow. He reaches out a tentative hand and sets it on Alex’s forehead just to pull back as soon as he makes contact. Alex is burning up. 

“Rafael,” Henry cries, “he’s got a fever. Can you fix this?”

“I need to identify the poison first,” Rafael replies. “June, hand me the chalice.”

Henry keeps his eyes on Alex while, presumably, Rafael studies the chalice to see what they’re dealing with. Looking at Alex like this hurts, but he thinks it would hurt more to look away. Even when he’s sweating and looks completely drained and miserable, Alex is still so _beautiful_. He’ll always be beautiful, no matter what’s happening to him. It breaks Henry’s heart to see him like this, though, despite how good it feels to finally be able to actually be near him and look at him again. 

Nora comes over with a bucket and a cloth, setting it down by Alex’s head. She turns around and grabs a chair but doesn’t sit down. “We need to keep him cool,” she says.   
Henry blinks but doesn’t respond. He won’t leave Alex––he won’t leave his side. 

“Do you want to do it?” 

He turns his head to look at her and sees a knowing look on her face––one that expresses that she knows how deeply Henry cares for him. So he nods and takes the cloth from her hand, sitting down in the chair. He puts the cloth in the bucket and wrings it out before bringing it to Alex’s forehead to cool his fever. Alex groans at the touch and his fists clench by his sides. Henry tries his hardest not to cry––to keep his brow cool. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” Nora tells him. “You don’t have to be strong for him, Your Highness. You can be scared.” 

Henry chokes back a sob and opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off before he gets the chance. It’s probably better this way, anyway. He has no idea what to say.

“Found it,” Rafael shouts. They all look at him. He’s hunched over a book with what looks like a wilted petal in his hand. “It’s from the mortaeus flower.” 

“What does that mean? Can you cure him?” June asks, rushing to get Rafael’s side to look at the page. 

“It says here that someone poisoned by this flower can only be saved by a potion brewed with the same flower. But the flower can only be found deep in the caves beneath the Forest of Baloch. It only grows on the roots of the mortaeus tree.”

“I’ve heard of the forest,” Henry says, his eyes still on Alex’s limp form. “I can go and get it. It should only take me about two days.”

“It won’t be easy,” Rafael warns. “The caves are guarded by all sorts of nefarious creatures. One of those being the cockatrice––one drop of their venom means certain death.”

Henry shakes his head. “I don’t bloody _care_ ,” he argues. “I won’t let him die––not if I can at least try to save him.” 

“It says that only few have survived,” June argues. “Henry, you have to think of your kingdom. Your people need you.”

“ _Alex_ needs me!” Henry snaps, turning around to face them. “How are you okay with letting him die?” 

“I’m not,” June says, wiping her eyes, “but even you have to admit that Philip would never let you do this. We can find someone else to––”

“No,” Henry yells, cutting through her words. “I have to do this. It’s my fault he’s in this mess. Rafael, what happens if I don’t succeed?” 

Rafael looks at him nervously before he looks down at the page. “He’ll die a slow and painful death,” he reads. “He could hold out for four days, most likely. Maybe five.” 

Henry sticks his chin out. “I’m going. Let me…I need to talk to Philip. Maybe I can take some men with me to ensure our success. I don’t want to leave him, but…”

“We’ll take care of him,” Nora promises, taking the cloth from his hands. “We won’t let him die.” 

Henry nods and stands, knowing that he has to speak to his brother. The best chance he has at getting this flower is with the help of the knights. The journey isn’t a terribly long one, but he knows that the forest is full of dark creatures. The caves are full of even more, probably. If he’s going to survive this, he’ll need help. And he _has_ to survive this. Without this flower, Alex will die.

When he gets to the throne room, Philip is there and discussing something with one of knights. Henry assumes it’s about King William and what they’ll do with him, but he can’t bring himself to care much about this conversation right now with the clock ticking.

“Leave us,” Henry instructs the knight. 

The knight bows and leaves, leaving Henry alone with his brother. 

“Henry,” Philip says cautiously, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Philip, I need to take some men to the Forest of Baloch.” 

Philip scoffs immediately. “That wretched place? Whatever for?”

Henry takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he’s strong––that he has to be strong for Alex. He can do this––he _has_ to do this. “We found a cure for Alex. A flower that can only be––”

“For the servant? Henry, I’m not letting you risk the lives of our knights––or yourself, for that matter––to save a lowly servant.”

“He’s not just a servant!” Henry yells, allowing more emotion in his voice than he had wanted to. Philip raises an eyebrow at him and Henry knows that he has to calm down––that he can’t tell Philip how important Alex is to him. That he would risk his life for Alex’s a hundred times over. That he’s so fucking head over heels for Alex that it physically hurts to look at him when he’s ill like this. 

Philip raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Pray tell, Henry, what exactly is he, then?”

Henry opens his mouth to say something but then closes it again. “He saved my life,” he settles for. “And I owe him a great debt.” 

“You owe him nothing,” Philip hisses. “It is his duty as a citizen of Camelot to give his life to you.”

“I won’t watch him die!” Henry protests. 

“Then don’t look,” Philip snaps. "Now, I don’t want to hear another word about this. You are not to leave the castle tonight, do you understand?”  
Henry nods and watches as Philip, seemingly satisfied, stalks off. Henry turns on his heel and goes back to his chambers feeling utterly useless. If Philip says he can’t leave, what is he to do? It’s not like he can just disobey the King––he’d be arrested or worse. Even if Philip is his brother, he knows that things like that don’t matter to him. For Philip, the Crown comes before blood. Henry must do what his King commands him to. 

So he takes off his ridiculous cloak and groans as he sits by the fireplace. He watches the flames rise and fall for a moment. Strangely, watching the flames dance makes him think of Alex. Maybe it’s the heat of it that reminds him of Alex and his rising fever, or maybe it’s because he knows how Alex’s skin looks as the light from the flames brush his cheekbones. Regardless, the thoughts of Alex make him feel like he’s drowning. Maybe he is drowning––maybe this is all some sort of strange dream. Maybe he’ll wake up and the feast won’t have happened and everything will be back to the way it was before. 

“That was quite the evening.”

Henry looks up and sees Bea standing in the doorway. “What?”

She steps into the room, closing the door behind her. “I mean, it was quite the entertainment tonight. It’s not every day you see someone get poisoned.” 

“I should have checked on you,” Henry realizes, “to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry.” 

She shakes her head like he’s missed the point entirely. “What I mean is that you should be with him right now. He needs you, Hen.” 

“I know,” he sighs, looking back at the fireplace. “And Rafael found a way to cure him.”

“That’s good,” she offers, moving over towards the fireplace. 

“But Philip said I can’t go to get the flower to make the antidote.” 

Bea sits down next to him and rolls her eyes. “And since when do you listen to Philip?” 

It’s a fair point to some extent, but he’s also been terrified of Philip’s wrath since he became King five years ago. 

“If there’s a way to save him, you _have_ to go, Hen. Don’t listen to Philip.” 

He fiddles with his fingers nervously as he thinks about her words. Normally, Henry only pushes so far. If something is blatantly cruel or wrong, he’ll try to have a civilized conversation about it. But he’s never been known for going directly against Philip’s orders––not like this. If he goes and Philip finds out, he’ll be in more trouble than he’s ever been before. But he knows that he has to save Alex––he has to do whatever he can to save his life. It’s not even just because Alex saved his life by drinking the poison, but it’s because Henry is so sickeningly in love with Alex that it actually hurts him. If Alex dies without Henry even trying to save him, what will he tell himself? 

“What if I fail?” he asks in a whisper, terrified to even think such a thought. 

Bea rubs his back reassuringly, letting him know that she’s here for him. “You won’t. You’re so brave, Hen. You can do this, okay? Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s impossible.”   
He smiles weakly because it _does_ feel impossible. He’s not like Pez or some of the other knights. He doesn’t have an endless supply of past adventures in his back pocket to fall back on or use to guide him. This is his first big quest by himself and, he thinks, the most important one of all. Alex’s life hangs in the balance and Henry isn’t sure if he’s skilled or brave enough to be the one in charge of it. But there’s no one else, is there? It _has_ to be him and he has to go _now_. The clock is ticking and every moment he wastes is a moment that brings Alex closer to death itself. 

He packs a satchel of food and water and brings some torches, too. He mounts his horse and rides out of the citadel, not halting when the knights at the gate ask him to stop. He rides past them and into the dark night, knowing that nothing will stop him from saving Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	25. The Forest of Baloch

When Henry finally arrives to the Forest of Baloch, stopping only to rest his horse, he finds a young woman resting on a rock in front of the entrance to the caves. The air is dark and foggy around them so he hardly sees her at first. When he does see her, it becomes apparent that she’s injured. She’s crying as she examines the gash on her arm. Her clothing is ripped to shreds and Henry figures that she must be freezing out here, not to mention completely terrified. In the distance, he hears the call of some beast or another. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks, moving towards her. 

The woman nods and sniffles as she looks up at him. There’s something about her––her nose, perhaps––that seems oddly familiar to him. He tries to ignore it, though, because it’s obvious that she’s in danger and needs help. This is no place for anyone to come alone unless they’re on a quest to save the love of their life with a flower from within the creepy caves.

“My…my master,” she cries, gesturing to her arm, “he beat me. I ran away but now…I’m lost. Please, sir, can you take me away from here?” 

Henry smiles weakly. “Of course. But I have to do something first, okay?”

He looks towards the mouth of the caves, feeling terrified of actually going inside. He reminds himself that this is for Alex and that he needs to at least try to save him, even if it’s the hardest and scariest thing he’s ever had to do. It would be harder and scarier, he thinks, to lose Alex. 

“You seek the morteaus flower?” the woman asks. 

He nods. 

“I know where they are. I can help you find it.” 

He opens his mouth to ask her how she knows where they are if she’s lost and never been here before, but a snake-like creature with the body of a horse pounces from one of the hills nearby. He’s only just able to dodge its frightful path as it leaps towards him. With speed he’s never managed before, he unsheathes his sword and swings at the mighty beast in an effort to draw it away from the young woman who looks completely terrified as she watches this unfold. The creature screeches and Henry swings at it again, but the creature is too fast for his blade. Instead, the creature attacks him. Henry dodges its advances in the nick of time, throwing himself to the ground to avoid its sharp teeth. From the looks of the beast, it’s the one that Rafael warned him about––the one with a mortal bite. 

When the creature starts in on the woman, Henry throws his sword at its stomach, pleasantly surprised when the blade pierces its scaly skin and makes the creature fall down. Out of breath but elated, he turns to the woman and sees a surprised look on her face––one that makes him feel a bit uneasy.   
She shows him into the caves, using the torches he brought with him to guide their way. The caves are dark and damp and reek of rotting flesh––not something that makes him feel good about his odds of succeeding. But he pushes onward because this is for _Alex_ and, without this flower, Alex will die. It’s the only thing that urges Henry to venture deep within the frightening caves. 

After a few minutes, he spots the yellow flower depicted in Rafael’s book. It grows from the rocks on the other side of this strange rock corridor he finds himself in, and there’s a small connecting bridge of rock that will get him there. He starts to walk across it, carefully to test out the weight of each new point, when he hears a strange language being spoken behind him. He turns and sees the woman with her hand out and her eyes glowing––using some sort of incantation to break the integrity of the rocks below him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes wide. 

The woman grins as the rock gives out from under him. He leaps off the rock and lands with his hands struggling to hold onto a small lip in the rock wall with the flowers above him. 

“It’s my destiny to kill you,” the woman tells him. 

He grunts and turns his head to see her body overcome by a strange glow that he recognizes as magic. He grits his teeth at the sight of it as the magic wraps around her, leaving an old woman in her place. 

A woman he recognizes. 

“ _Gran_?” 

His grandmother grins. “Hello, Henry.”

He blinks a few times, thinking that maybe it will change what he’s seeing right now. It doesn’t though. When he stops blinking, his grandmother is still there with that wicked smile on her face. It seems impossible that it’s her destiny to kill him. They were family once, weren’t they? Even if he doesn’t quite remember any happy times with her? Surely there must be some ounce of good left in her, even after everything. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Because you took everything away from me,” she snaps. “And I want it back.” 

With that, she leaves, taking the last remaining light with her. Without the light, Henry is doomed. There’s no way he can scale this wall without light to guide him. But he’ll try. So he reaches up with one arm in an attempt to find something to hold onto, but he comes up short. He groans at the thought that this is how he might die––alone in a cave because of his murderous grandmother and completely useless to save Alex. The thought brings tears to his eyes, but he knows that he should probably just let go––that it might be easier to just die now before his arms go numb and the fall takes him by surprise. 

Just as he braces himself to let go, a glowing light appears by his side. He stares at it for a moment, completely baffled. Maybe it’s his grandmother in an attempt to smooth things over or apologize to him. Maybe it’s something else entirely. Whatever it is, it’s guiding him upwards and lighting the way for him. 

“Follow the light,” he hears. It’s barely audible, but it sounds like Alex’s voice. It’s all he needs to keep going. 

He uses the light to get a good grip and pull himself up the wall until he’s at eye-level with the flowers. 

“Leave it,” the voice tells him. 

He shakes his head and balances himself enough to grab the flowers from their roots. He shoves them into his satchel on his belt and keeps climbing.   
Eventually, he makes it out of the cave and back onto solid ground. The light disappears when he emerges from the depths of the cave, but he doesn’t need it now. He finds his horse and rides it as fast as it can go back to Camelot to get the flower to Alex before it’s too late. He only stops when it’s clear that his horse needs water or rest, and even then he only pauses for a few moments. This is a race against time itself––every moment counts. 

When he arrives at the gates, a group of knights blocks the entrance, refusing to let him into the citadel. “What’s the meaning of this? Let me through!”   
They don’t seem to care what he has to say, though. They place him under arrest and march him to the dungeons where he’s thrown in a small cell and unable to sweet-talk his way out. For a moment, he gives up all hope. But then, suddenly, Philip enters. 

“Oh, good,” he sighs, happier to see his brother than he’s ever been in his entire life. He pulls the flower out of his satchel and holds it out. “You have to bring this to Rafael. He’ll know what to do.”

Philip eyes the flower and takes it. “You disobeyed me,” he hisses, “for a _servant_ , no less.” 

Henry stares at him for a moment, completely baffled. “I––That’s why I was arrested?” 

His brother holds the flower up to the dim torchlight and crushes it with his fist. Henry yells at the sight, but he’s utterly powerless now. Philip lets the mashed flower fall unceremoniously to the floor. “Maybe that will teach you to obey me. I’ll see that you’re let out in a week.” 

With that, Philip storms out. 

Henry crumbles to the floor, crying at the sight of the useless flower. Without this flower, Alex will certainly die. Henry had his chance to save him and failed miserably––he came up short just like he always does. He’s not a fighter or a knight or a prince––he’s nothing but a failure. And this is worst failure of all because it means that the man he’s deeply in love with will die and it will be completely Henry’s fault. Just like his father––just like every other good thing he’s ever had in his life. 

He isn’t sure how much time passes before he hears the cell door being unlocked and opened. He looks up and sees June standing there with a sympathetic smile on her face and a plate of bread in her hands. All at once, Henry knows exactly what to do. 

“Set it down over there,” he instructs, keeping his voice cold and emotionless. 

June frowns but does as he commands, setting the plate down on the ground. She walks back towards the door and watches as Henry stands and makes his way over to the plate, examining it. He takes it in his hands and carefully places the flower between the two slices of bread, praying that June will see it and know exactly what to do.   
“I can’t eat this,” he huffs, setting it back down again. “It’s disgusting.” 

June bows her head and takes the plate. Henry watches her carefully and sees the small smile creep across her face when she sees the flower. 

Even if Henry is locked up in here, it doesn’t matter anymore. At least Alex will get the antidote and survive. The thought makes him smile as June is led out of his cell and back to the upper floors of the castle. Though he desperately wishes he could follow her and ensure that Alex is cured, the knowledge that he’ll be okay is enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr! come find me and yell at me for writing this trash!


	26. Reunited (Kisses and Cuddles)

Someone forces liquid down his throat. At first, he thinks it might be a second attempt to kill him––that this is truly how he’ll die. But then, a moment later, the paralysis fades away. It turns into a tingling sensation that erupts through his whole body. The feeling isn’t entirely unpleasant, but he still has no idea what this means––is this helping or hurting him? When he tries to wiggle his fingers, it works. He gasps and moves to sit up but his body aches with the effort and even such a small movement has him out of breath. But there’s an arm on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. He focuses on opening his eyes but has to shut them almost immediately because the light is too bright and it pounds into his skull like thousands of tiny knives. He groans at the new wave of pain.

“You’re okay,” a familiar voice tells him. 

He blinks and squints for a moment until the world comes back into focus. In front of him is June with a soft smile on her face and a hand on his shoulder. He opens his mouth to talk but that hurts, too. 

“I’ll get you some water,” she offers, getting up for a moment. As soon as she gets up, Raf is there with a grin. 

“You had us scared, kid,” Raf tells him. 

Alex shakes his head because he still can’t speak––he wants to ask how they saved him and how it’s even possible for him to have survived such a terrible thing. While he doesn’t remember everything that happened while he was paralyzed and in pain, he recalls something about Henry in a cave––Alex thinks he might have sent a light there to guide him. He wonders if it was simply a fever dream or if Henry really did risk his life to save Alex’s. It’s probably a question for another time, though, given the white-hot pain that erupts through his body when he tries to get out of bed. 

“Nope,” Raf says, pushing him back down, “you’re not going anywhere. You need to rest, kid.”

Alex opens his mouth to protest but he can’t. He frowns instead, hoping that conveys his annoyance with the situation. 

June comes back in a moment with Nora by her side and water in her hand. She hands it to Alex. “Drink.” 

He takes it and brings it to his chapped lips, chugging the entire thing. It makes his throat feel a lot better, though his mouth still tastes like that garbage that someone poured down his throat. He figures that it must have been the antidote or something, so he’s grateful, but it still takes like shit. 

“How am I alive?” he croaks, setting the cup down on the small bedside table.

“Because your prince risked his neck to get the flower for your antidote,” Nora tells him. 

So, if Henry really _did_ stupidly risk his life for Alex, that means that it wasn’t a fever dream. That means that Alex was actually fucking stupid enough to use magic in front of Henry. He pales at the thought. “I think I used magic for him,” he gasps. 

“We saw,” Nora chuckles. “Don’t worry, though. There’s no way he knew it was you.”

Alex isn’t convinced, but he feels like there are bigger things to worry about right now. Things like where Henry is. “Where is he? Is he okay?” 

They look at each other nervously before June clears her throat and looks down at him. “He’s…he’s in the dungeon.” 

Alex’s eyes widen. “What? Why?” The emotional outburst makes his body ache again, so he groans and lowers himself fully against the mattress. 

“Apparently Philip ordered him not to go,” June explains, “but he went anyway.” 

Alex feels a wave of guilt wash over him. 

“It’s not your fault,” Nora says, seemingly reading his mind. 

He glares at her because, obviously, it _is_ his fault. He can’t even imagine how Henry must be feeling right now––anxious, angry, _something_. Maybe Henry sees this as a mistake––maybe he regrets saving Alex because it got him thrown in the dungeon for who knows how long. Fuck, he wishes Henry could be here right now. He wishes he could tell Henry that he’s okay and that everything’s fine, even if he was a stupid asshole and risked his life for Alex’s. 

“I think he’ll be released soon,” Raf offers. “I’m about to go tell the King something that will change everything.” 

Alex raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“It wasn’t King William that poisoned the chalice. It was Mary.” 

“The evil one? The one who put that creature in the water supply?”

“The same.” 

_Fuck_. This is probably going to destroy Henry, isn’t it? He’s already got so much to deal with, especially in the family department, so knowing that his evil and estranged grandmother tried to poison him will probably break his heart. Alex clenches his fists because there’s nothing he’ll be able to do about it. Henry’s locked away and Alex can’t even get up to go visit him or anything. For now, he’s stuck and helpless. 

“There’s another thing,” Raf sighs, “but something I don’t plan on telling Philip.” He pauses for a moment. “Mary must have known that you would be the one to drink from the chalice.”

“So she never wanted to poison Henry?” June asks, shocked. 

Raf nods in agreement.

Alex is, simply put, confused out of his fucking mind. In the eyes of everyone else, he’s just a servant. He’s a nobody. Why would Mary go out of her way to see Alex poisoned instead of Henry or Philip or someone that would actually be helpful to kill off to get the crown? It doesn’t make any sense. 

“Why?” he asks. 

“Maybe she knows about the prophecy,” Nora shrugs. “I mean, take it as a compliment. She thinks you’re the mastermind or something.” 

“I _am_ the mastermind,” he huffs under his breath. 

After Raf leaves to go to tell the King about his findings, Alex tries to rest for a little bit. It’s a weird combination of feeling exhausted but also like he’s never been more awake. Despite the pain and fatigue he’s feeling, he’s itching to get up and do something. Find Henry, probably. Do something useful for once. But even if he could get up, June informed him that Henry isn’t even allowed to have visitors and that she had to lie and sneak her way in there to talk to him and get the flower. The whole thing makes Alex feel guilty all over again because that’s at least two people that risked their own safety to save his life. And, on top of all of that, Raf apparently had to use _magic_ to make the antidote. If he had been discovered, he would have been executed. So, yeah. The whole thing makes Alex feel like a child that everyone has to look out for. He’s supposed to be some sort of great savior, but he hasn’t really done much saving, has he? It seems like everyone is just saving him all of the time––not the other way around. 

He drifts in and out of consciousness, feeling safe because he knows that either June or Nora will stay here by his side while he slumbers. His brain is wide awake but his body still aches like he’s been thrown off a horse or hurt in battle. The rest doesn’t help much, nor does the absurd amount of water he drinks. In his heart, he knows that only seeing Henry can make him feel better right now since a lot of what he’s feeling is guilt and nervousness for him. But Henry is either still locked away or pointedly ignoring Alex, so the feelings remain. Alex doesn’t even know which would be worse––Henry locked up in the dungeon or Henry doing literally everything he can to avoid coming to see Alex. So Alex lets his mind wander as he closes his eyes, bracing himself for a slew of strange and possibly disturbing dreams about the blue-eyed prince. 

“He’ll be okay,” someone says in a whisper. 

He’s unsure if he’s still dreaming or not––everything is completely dark around him. 

“Shouldn’t he be awake by now?” another voice asks. 

Alex opens his eyes, elated when it works and the world snaps into focus around him. The voices, it seems, are June and Henry. They’re in the corner of the room, looking at Alex while speaking to each other. 

“He still needs to rest,” June offers. “But he’s woken up a few times already. You really don’t have to worry about him, Henry. You saved his life.” 

Henry sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll always worry about him,” he admits. He takes a breath. “Just…find me when he wakes up again. I need…I really need to talk to him.” 

Alex can’t help but smile to himself for a moment before he slowly pushes himself up into a seated position, relying on his elbows to keep him upright. “Morning,” Alex says with a sly smile on his face. 

Henry turns fully to look at him, his mouth hanging open and his blue eyes blown wide. He stares for a moment before he rushes over and practically tackles Alex in a monstrous hug that sends Alex falling back onto the mattress. He laughs at Henry’s enthusiasm and buries his head in the crook of Henry’s neck, breathing in his distinct scent. If there’s one thing that nearly dying has taught him, it’s that he can’t hold a grudge against this man. 

Henry pulls away quickly like he’s remembering that it might not be appropriate to have such a display of affection in front of Alex’s sister. But when Alex looks around, June is gone. 

Henry sits at the foot of the cot, his ears and cheeks bright pink. “Sorry,” he mumbles, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket.

“Don’t be,” Alex says, reaching blindly for Henry’s hand. Henry gives it to him readily and Alex threads their fingers together. “How you doin’?” 

The corners of Henry’s eyes crinkle while he laughs. “How am _I_? How are _you_ , Alex? Christ, I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like.” 

“I’m better now,” Alex admits. His heart is beating erratically in his chest. 

“I’m sorry I couldn't be here when you first woke.”

Alex shakes his head and gives Henry’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t be, okay? You saved my life, H. You’re a hero.” 

“Hardly,” Henry croaks. “I only managed it because I had help.”

Alex thinks about the glowing light he sent to guide Henry, wondering if Henry has any idea that it was him. Maybe he just thinks he got lucky or that someone was looking out for him––someone that is definitely not Alex. “What kind of help?” 

“Someone sent some sort of magic light,” he explains, “to guide my way. It must have been some sort of guardian angel.”

A silence passes over them as Alex thinks of what to say next. It’s probably for the best that Henry doesn’t suspect Alex of using magic, even if Alex only used it to help him. Still, though: wouldn’t it be nice to come clean about everything? To let Henry know his deepest secret? 

“Thank you,” Alex says, choosing to not talk about the whole magic thing anymore. “Like, seriously. Thank you.” 

“What for?” 

Alex rolls his eyes. “For saving my life, you dick.” 

Henry stares at him for a moment with something Alex can’t quite figure out. “You saved mine first.”

Alex stares back at him, inching forward until they’re closer than they’ve been in a while. He can’t help but look at Henry’s pink and slightly-parted lips, wondering if they still feel the same against his own. “I’m sorry I was such an ass.” 

Henry shakes his head and cups Alex’s jaw with his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

Alex leans into the touch, closing his eyes because it feels so _good_ to have Henry’s hands on him again like this––so soft and gentle and loving. He feels Henry guide his head up and, a moment later, he feels Henry’s lips pressed against his own. There’s no hesitation with this kiss. Alex melts into it instantly, wrapping his arms around Henry’s shoulders and bringing him closer. He tangles one hand in Henry’s hair, promptly eliciting a moan from him. But just as Alex moves to deepen the kiss, he starts to feel dizzy. He leans back and away from Henry, falling back onto the mattress with a heaving chest. 

“Alex?” Henry asks, his voice soft and scared. “Was that…”

“It was great,” Alex says, still breathless and struggling to get air into his lungs. “Sorry, I’m just…it’s hard to breathe right now.”

Henry’s face pales. “Christ, I should have thought…I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?” 

“Come cuddle with me?” 

Henry breaks into a grin as he moves to accommodate Alex’s request, wrapping his arms around Alex and pulling Alex against his stomach. “Of course, love. Of course.”   
Alex can’t help the shit-eating grin that spreads across his face as Henry’s fingers move up and down his arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Now, with Henry here and curled up against him, it all seems so fucking worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy! as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	27. I'll Show You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooooo sexy times ahead!

Henry falls asleep with his arms around Alex and, when he wakes up, Alex is still there. The sight of his mussed curls warms Henry’s heart and encourages him to pull Alex closer to his chest, but then he notices the goosebumps on Alex’s arms. He frowns and hears, faintly, the chattering of teeth. During their slumber, the blanket fell to the floor and off of Alex, so Henry gets up and retrieves it, carefully draping it over Alex’s still-sleeping form. Then he goes to the bedroom in the back––Alex’s room, he thinks––and grabs the blanket from there, too. Once he’s sure that Alex is comfortable, he starts poking around to find something to make tea to warm him up from the inside out, but he’s never actually had to brew his own cup before so he has no idea how to make it. Does it come made already? How do they make it hot? He hasn’t got a bloody clue. 

“You look lost,” someone says from behind him, making him jump. As it turns out, it’s Pez with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. 

Henry smiles at him weakly. “Just trying to make tea,” he says, turning around again to rifle through the cabinets. “What are you doing here?” 

“Thought I’d come see your lover,” Pez chuckles. 

Henry can’t help but roll his eyes. “He’s not my…” he trails off, unsure what to say. _Is_ Alex is lover? Are they together now? Or was this afternoon more of a last time thing because Alex was so out of it from the whole poisoning thing? Maybe he could ask for some sort of definition of whatever it is they’re doing, but he doesn’t want to make things any harder for Alex right now. Really, all he wants is to be able to bring Alex a cup of tea. 

“Need some help?” Pez asks, setting the flowers down on the table and moving over to help Henry. 

Henry nods, a bit embarrassed, and watches as Pez easily locates the necessary items to make a cup of tea. He even gets water in a cauldron over the fire like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. Part of Henry feels extremely jealous that Pez can just _do_ things like this so effortlessly. Stupid, everyday sorts of things that Henry has never learned how to do. 

“How’s he doing?” Pez asks as the water heats up.

Henry shrugs. “Good, I think. He woke up for a bit but I think it’ll be a few days before he’s back to his old self.” 

Pez nods and takes the water off of the fire, pouring a bit of it into a cup and added a satchel of tea. He hands it to Henry while he pours another one. “And are you two…”

“We kissed,” Henry admits, feeling his face go red at the mention of it. “And then we…fell asleep together?” 

“Precious,” Pez gushes, handing the other cup to Henry. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone then, shall I? Just let him know I dropped by and brought those flowers you requested.” 

Henry blinks. “I didn’t––”

“I know, Hen. I just thought you might like to give him something. I can always go pick more flowers. Say they’re from you––he’ll love it.” 

Henry smiles sheepishly and takes a sip from one of the cups, happy to find that it’s just to his liking. “Thank you.”

Pez winks before leaving, once again allowing Henry and Alex to have the space to themselves. He sort of wonders where everyone else has run off to, but he’s also very thankful to have the space to be with Alex in private. He makes a note to thank June for that when he sees her again. For now, though, he takes the two cups over to the bed and sits in the chair while he sips his own, not wanting to disturb Alex’s slumber. As it turns out, though, Alex is already waking up. 

“Afternoon,” Henry grins when he sees Alex’s brown eyes blink open. 

Alex shoots him a dopey smile and stretches. The blankets fall a bit as his arms go over his head, his shirt rising up with his arms. For a brief, glorious moment, Henry gets to see the hard lines of Alex’s stomach. It makes him go red. 

“You’re still here,” Alex notes. 

“Of course I am,” Henry chuckles, handing him his cup of tea. “And I got you a tea. I noticed you were shivering so I thought it might, erm, warm you up?” 

Alex smiles sheepishly and takes a sip of it. “It’s good. Thanks.” He takes another sip. “You don’t have to stay here, you know. You probably have, like, royal duties or something.” 

Henry nods in agreement. “I do, actually. It’s my royal duty to stay here with you until someone else comes back to look over you.” 

Alex rolls his eyes but there’s still that gorgeous smirk on his face, so Henry smiles back at him. He can’t even remember the last time he was this happy––has he ever even _been_ this happy before? Is it bad that he can’t recall a time where he was? But what he does know is that being with Alex like this––just as two people, not as a prince and his servant––makes his heart flutter in his chest. It makes the tension melt off of his body and fly away. The light in Alex’s eyes makes Henry’s knees go weak, even when he’s already seated. So maybe it’s not a bad thing that he’s never been this happy before––maybe it just means that he can hold onto a shred of hope that this can be real and everlasting. Maybe it means that the two of them can be together like this as long as Alex still wants him around. 

Alex does, eventually, get better. Alex gives him a few days off to rest, but Henry still spends his free time with him. He takes to reading to Alex because it helps him fall asleep, and he’s always there to fetch soup or water or whatever else Alex needs. And, when Alex does return to his duties, Henry only lets him work for a few hours at a time, even though Alex tries to insist that he’s fine and can work full time like he used to. Henry won’t hear a word about it, not even when Alex gives him those puppy dog eyes and kisses him so softly that Henry feels like he might just fall to pieces. 

Three weeks later, Raf declares that Alex is fully healed. Of course, Alex uses this to try and get himself working fully again.

“I’m _fine_ , Henry,” he groans when Henry still protests that he should take it easy despite the good news. 

They’re in Henry’s chambers when it happens. Alex has just come charging through the door, demanding to be fully rehired. Henry, who was looking over some important document or another, set it down to look up at Alex and hear him out, fully intending not to move a damn inch in his direction. He will not be sweet-talked into risking Alex’s health.   
“You nearly died,” Henry reminds him with a sigh, shoving the paper aside, “so.” 

“So nothing,” Alex huffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Raf said I’m good to go. I’m going crazy without working all the time.” 

Henry raises an eyebrow, not believing a word he says. All Alex does while he’s working is complain about the chores Henry has him do. Though, to be fair, Henry has been giving him only the smallest of tasks since his near-death experience. Things like doing the laundry and scheduling. 

“Are you trying to fire me? Is that what this is?” Alex asks suddenly when Henry doesn’t respond. 

Henry pales and stammers for a moment, completely taken aback. “What?” 

“Am I not doing a good job or something? Is that why you’re cutting back how much I’m working?” 

Henry fumbles with trying to fix this before it becomes a ridiculous fight that they don’t even need to have. How does he express everything he’s been thinking? How does he let Alex know how worried he is without sounding too overbearing or coddling? They haven’t even really defined whatever it is they’re doing, so maybe it’s not even Henry’s place to worry about him so openly. Maybe Alex wants to keep this as just occasional kisses and nothing more. Maybe he doesn’t even like Henry like Henry likes him.   
“Alex,” Henry says, speaking slowly and carefully choosing each word, “darling, you know that’s not this is.” 

Alex rolls his eyes. “Then what is it?” 

“It’s…it’s that I’m worried about you. You were poisoned and on the brink of death less than three weeks ago and now…I just don’t want you to bite off more than you can chew. And I don’t want there to be another instance where I’m in danger and you sacrifice yourself for me. I can’t,” he pauses for a moment, getting a little teary. He takes in a shaky breath. “I can’t stand the thought of something like that happening again. And the more you’re around me and working, the more likely it is that something like that very well _will_ happen again.”

Alex is silent for a moment. It’s sort of creepy, really, with the way his eyes are wide and staring at Henry while the rest of his normally fidgeting body is completely still. Henry hangs his head, certain that he’s just messed up whatever they had between them with his confession. Maybe Alex will be kind and just leave without another word. Maybe he won’t make this into a big deal. 

“Hey,” Alex whispers. Henry looks up and sees Alex standing right in front of him now. Alex reaches out and cups Henry’s jaw. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about how you must be feeling.” 

Henry shoots him a pitiful smile. “I can’t lose you,” he admits. 

Alex straddles his lap and pulls Henry into a hug, resting his head in the crook of Henry’s neck. Henry’s arms come up to support him and pull him closer until there’s no space between them. 

“You won’t,” Alex promises. “You could never lose me.” 

Henry half laughs and half cries at that, kissing Alex’s cheek as a response. Alex laughs and pulls away ever so slightly and rubs their noses together. 

“I just want to protect you,” he confesses, “and be with you whenever I can. And if you’re nervous that I’m not feeling well enough to return to my duties…”

Henry pulls back a bit and raises an eyebrow at the unfinished sentence. “What?”

He feels Alex’s hands move down his sides and to his ass, giving it a squeeze. “Then I think I promised to put that bed to good use, didn’t I?”

Henry can’t help but groan a bit at the thought. It’s the middle of the day and they’re in royal chambers and his bloody servant (and possibly his lover, though that still isn’t quite clear) is trying to prove that he’s well enough to return to his duties by taking Henry to bed. And, well, how the hell is he supposed to say no to that? So he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses Alex with everything’s he’s got, trying to put his thoughts into this kiss and show Alex just what he thinks about that wonderful idea. He feels Alex smile as he kisses him back, moving one hand into Henry’s hair and yanking it. Henry’s head falls back and Alex trails his lips from Henry’s mouth to his neck, kissing and biting down an unknown path. Henry’s hands come up to support Alex by his ass, his fingers sliding between his cheeks. Alex groans and grinds down on him which makes them both shudder with pleasure.

“Get on the bed,” Henry demands breathlessly. 

Alex pulls back and looks at him with wide eyes. 

For a moment, Henry thinks that he’s read all of this wrong and that maybe Alex doesn’t like being talked to like that. He opens his mouth to backtrack when Alex kisses him quickly before pulling back again. 

“Fuck,” he moans, “why is it hot when you act like a prince?” 

Henry smiles as Alex hops off and goes over to the bed, swaying his hips dramatically as he walks. Henry nearly growls at the sight of it before he gets up and follows Alex over, turning him around and kissing him before he reaches the bed. Alex melts completely into the kiss, so he’s obviously not expecting it when Henry pushes him so his back hits the mattress. 

Alex looks up at him, his mouth hanging open, and Henry looks down at him. He looks so gorgeous on the bed like this––curls mussed, eyes wide, legs spread. Henry wishes he could get the royal painter in here to capture this moment so he could have it forever––so he could always remember Alex exactly like this. But he commits the image to his memory instead, then he lowers himself and goes on all fours above Alex, kissing him senseless. Alex leans up into it, one hand already making its way to the hem of Henry’s shirt to lift it over his head. Henry sits back for a moment and unties the top of it before taking it off and throwing it to the ground to be dealt with later. Alex looks at his bare chest and licks his lips before he drags his tongue down the lines he finds there––the combination of muscles from years of training and the collection of scars from battles and tournaments. 

Alex treats each scar and mark like a target. It makes Henry shiver both from the feeling of Alex’s tongue pressed against his chest and the thought that Alex sees these imperfections as beautiful––as things to be worshipped and loved. 

As much as Henry enjoys this, he’s desperate to get Alex’s shirt and jacket off, too. So while Alex continues to chart the marks on Henry’s skin, Henry slides Alex’s jacket off his shoulders and throws it to the floor. Alex pauses a moment later and sits up a bit to get his shirt off. When the shirt is gone, Henry is left with his jaw hanging open as he takes in the full view of Alex’s chest and stomach––the heavy lifting he did for the farms back home apparent in the smooth muscles on his abdomen. Henry traces one with his finger, causing Alex to shiver. 

“Take off your trousers,” Henry instructs. 

Alex laughs for a moment before complying. His hands are lightning quick on the fastenings and then, just like that, they’re off. And, what really gets Henry going, is the fact that Alex isn’t wearing any underwear beneath them. As the trousers are removed, his cock springs free and hits his stomach, fully hard. Henry can’t help but stare at it for a moment, certain that he’s never seen anything more lovely in his entire life. 

“Should I take care of yours?” Alex asks, his hands already sliding against the fastenings. 

Henry nods and watches as Alex undoes them and tosses them aside. Henry is left in nothing but his underwear, though the evidence of his arousal is quite obvious through the thin material. He’s expecting Alex to take them off, too, but he doesn’t. Instead, he adjusts Henry so he’s against the headboard while Alex lies down on his stomach between his spread legs. Henry watches with wide eyes as Alex puts his mouth on him through the material. Henry’s fists clench by his sides as Alex teases him like this––his hot mouth so very close to Henry’s sensitive cock. His breath ghosts over the shaft for a moment before he settles to take one of Henry’s balls into his mouth through the underwear, making Henry cry out. The noise seems to excite Alex, because, in one swift motion, Henry’s underwear is on the floor and Alex’s mouth is on him completely.

He swirls his tongue around the head, licking the wet slit with the tip of his tongue. Henry groans and can’t refrain from bucking his hips, desperately seeking out more, more, _more_. Alex looks up at him with those big brown eyes and a smirk riddling the corners of his mouth before he takes as much as he can into his mouth, using his hand to reach the base. Henry moans at the feeling and winds one hand into Alex’s hair, pulling lightly at those fucking curls that drive him mad. Alex bobs his head like he’s been doing this all his life––like he’s just been waiting for the moment he was granted permission to do this. Henry is so lost in him and the way Alex is making his toes clench that he doesn’t even give a warning when he comes––his nerves just explode into white-hot bliss. 

If Alex is bothered by it, he isn’t letting on. He swallows it all happily and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Somehow, that stupid action makes Henry feel like he’s being set on fire. 

“Come here,” Henry demands. 

With a grin, Alex obliges and surges up to kiss Henry soundly. Henry holds onto him for a moment, allowing himself to come back into his body before he returns the favor. So he kisses Alex deeply while he recovers and, when he feels his mind and body reconnect, he flips them over so Alex is under him. Using this new leverage, Henry slides down his body, planting kisses on freckles and moles he finds along the way. When he gets to Alex’s cock, he plants an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of his thigh, making Alex shudder and tremble beneath him. 

“Fuck,” Alex says, his eyes screwed shut. 

Henry grins and takes Alex into his mouth, so done with waiting that the thought of truly teasing him doesn’t even cross his mind. Instead, he makes it his goal to get Alex to come as quickly as possible––so quickly that it feels like an eruption in his body. So he works his tongue around the head before taking the whole thing into his mouth, proud of himself when he feels the tip hit the back of his throat. Alex is a trembling, shaking mess between him and is mumbling a string of half-hearted obscenities, so Henry keeps going.

“Henry, I’m––”

Henry prepares himself, eager to swallow every last drop. 

When Alex comes, he cries out. As he cries out, the window shatters. 

Alex shoots up, out of breath. “Fuck,” he says, looking at the glass on the ground. 

Henry wipes his mouth and looks over at the glass, too, wondering if someone threw a rock at his window or if it was some sort of large wind. He’s about to make a comment about it when Alex pulls him close and kisses him lazily––kisses him like nothing else matters. 

And, in this moment, nothing else does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that awkward moment when you cum so hard your magic explodes and breaks a window
> 
> as always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	28. The Breath of Life

If Henry noticed Alex’s magic surge when he came, he didn’t say a word about it. In fact, if anything, it all made things so much better between them. Alex came up and saw Henry when he could––stole kisses and did whatever he could to make Henry make those fucking sounds again. And, truthfully, it was pure bliss. Alex couldn’t remember a time he had been happier. But then, of course, that happiness had to come to an end. 

It happens a week later. That perfect afternoon with Henry was the calm before the storm––a moment of true peace before everything turned into a complete fucking shitshow. It happens at night and when they’re not expecting it––they all just _come_. Hundreds of soldiers march through the gates of Camelot and into the citadel, slaughtering everyone in their path. The alarm bells wake Alex up and, when he pokes his outside his door, Raf is already up, too. He’s pulling on clothes to go meet with the Council, probably, to figure out what the fuck they’re supposed to do and what’s going on. But Alex’s mind isn’t on the Council or even what’s going on––there’s only one thought filling his brain and that thought is _Henry_. Because, oh God, _Henry_. 

So Alex, still in his sleepwear, sprints through the chaotic castle hallways and up the long, winding flights of stairs. He shoves people out of his way as they all scurry around to try and find shelter and figure out what’s going on. With an attack, he figures that all of the knights and guards will already be off trying to help––which means that Henry’s chambers will be unguarded. Which means that someone could easily just go in there and kill him if they so desired. So Alex takes the stairs two at a time, using the wall to push himself forward even faster. By the time he gets to Henry’s chambers, he’s out of breath and sweaty but still more determined than he’s ever been. He pushes the door open without knocking, not giving a single fuck about pleasantries right now. 

“Christ,” Henry remarks, his eyes wide as Alex enters the space and slams the door shut behind him. He locks it, too, just for good measure. “What are you doing?” 

Alex has not got the damn time. “Protecting you,” he huffs. He pushes past Henry to look out the window where he sees, clear as day, soldiers marching through the streets and making their way through the knights in the courtyard. He curses under his breath and draws the curtain closed. “It won’t be long before they make it up here. We have to––”

Henry clears his throat. 

Alex turns to look at him and sees that he’s already dressed in his armor with a sword sheathed by his side. He’s already shaking his head and trying to figure out a spell that can knock Henry out without hurting him––trying to figure out something that will prevent from Henry going down there and getting involved. From the looks of it, the mysterious soldiers are cutting down the Camelot knights where they stand without much effort. 

“You’re not going down there,” he protests. “Have you seen what’s going on? They’re killing everyone!” 

Henry’s eyes flash. “That’s exactly _why_ I have to go!” Henry shouts. 

Alex shrinks into himself, not used to hearing Henry raise his voice like this. Not at him. 

Henry sighs and moves towards him, setting one hand on his shoulder and the other under Alex’s jaw, tilting his head up so their eyes meet. “I have to go,” he whispers. “I have to _try_.”

For once, Alex is speechless. He knows Henry’s heart and mind well enough by now to know that, of course, Henry wants to be the hero. He wants to go out there and save as many people as he can without thinking twice about his own safety. But Alex knows himself, too, and he knows that there’s no chance in fucking hell that he’s going to let Henry go down there by himself and get killed just to help his people. If Henry’s planning on going down tonight, Alex will be right by his side. That’s how it always is––they’re a package deal. Not only are they nearly constantly together, but their destinies are intertwined and have been since the dawn of time itself. They’re two sides of the same coin––forged in fire together. And Alex plans on going down together, too. 

He takes Henry’s hand off his shoulder and holds it in his own, squeezing it. “I’m coming with you,” he says.

Henry raises Alex’s hand––still intertwined with his own––and plants a kiss on his wrist at the pulse point. “Please don’t. I couldn’t stand to see you hurt.” 

“Feeling’s mutual,” Alex says with a slight chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work. “I’m not letting you go down there without me.”

“You’re not exactly a knight or good with swords,” Henry notes. 

Alex rolls his eyes. This is one of those moments where the truth churns in his stomach and threatens to spill out of his mouth––where he wants so desperately to tell Henry that he’s helpful and useful because he has magic and doesn’t even have to hold a sword to kill people. But now is probably not a good time to tell Henry any of this and, quite possibly, there will never even _be_ a good time. Maybe part of his destiny is holding onto this secret forever and just staying in the shadows for the rest of his life, never allowed to really have anything he wants. And maybe it’s a feeling that he’ll have to get used to. Maybe he just has to accept the fact that he won’t ever be allowed to live his truth like he wants to. Not with Henry, anyway. 

“I’m going,” he persists. “That’s that. I don’t care what you want or think––it’s happening. So, come on. Let’s go.” He grabs Henry’s hand and marches them both to the door without allowing Henry a moment to talk him out of this. It’s probably a stupid idea, and they’re probably marching to their deaths right now, but Alex will be damned before he lets Henry walk into this alone. 

The castle is still in a frenzy when they step out of Henry’s chambers. Guards, servants, and knights run around like headless chickens as they either scurry to or away from the chaos outside. Alex supposes that it’s reassuring, at least, that the incoming soldiers haven’t actually penetrated the castle walls yet, but that’s really the only slightly hopeful thing about this entire situation. Every other part of this screams doom and horror to him, and he has no idea how to fix it. Even if he could use magic in front of Henry, he doesn’t know any spells strong enough to get rid of the soldiers. Maybe, just maybe, magic _will_ be the solution for this, but he’s going to need to discover something he hasn’t come across yet. The answer might lie in the back pages of the book––the dark, eroded pages filled to the brim with spells that have the potential to kill. Darker magic––the kind that corrupts. The kind he’s never even dared to think of trying. 

But when he looks over at Henry’s face, painted in dramatic shadows from the torchlight in the hallway, he knows that he’ll go to that dark place if he has to. If using such magic will save Henry’s life, he’ll use it without hesitation––he’ll use it and not think twice about what it might mean for him and his soul and his future. 

He tugs Henry’s hand and pushes them both into an alcove, reaching up and kissing Henry fiercely as soon as they’re hidden in the shadows.

“What was that for?” Henry asks him in a breathless whisper when he pulls back. 

“In case I don’t get to do it again,” he says, kissing him one last time for good measure. 

They don’t let themselves get lost in the kiss, even if it is to be their last. The thing about kissing Henry is that it’s nearly impossible to _not_ get lost in it––to not get mesmerized by the softness of his lips or the now-familiar taste of him, or the impossibly _Henry_ smell that swells up in Alex’s lungs like a soft blanket. Because kissing Henry is a magic of its own right. It’s intoxicating and wonderful and Alex thinks that he would die if he couldn’t do it as often as they do––that going a day without kissing Henry would be like going a day without breathing. And kissing Henry is second-nature to him now––an animal instinct that builds up within him and makes him surge forward and up to plant a kiss on those welcoming lips. And, if they do die today, Alex will die knowing that whatever waits for him on the other side will likely be worth it because, at least, Henry will be there, too. Henry and his pink cheeks and lopsided grin. Henry and his blue eyes and his charm. Henry as himself––not the Prince––just who Alex has the privilege of seeing and knowing behind closed doors and in shadowy alcoves of the castle that holds them both hostage. 

“Come on,” Henry urges, emerging from the alcove. 

Alex follows him dutifully, knowing fully well that he’ll follow this man to the ends of the fucking earth and beyond if he asks it of him. So he follows Henry through the dark twists and turns of the castle and to the courtyard where, as Alex saw from the window, the soldiers are taking out the knights like they’re nothing. Alex can’t help but let his eyes search the piles of bloodied red cloaks of the fallen Camelot men, wondering if Pez is somewhere among them. Maybe he’s safe from the slaughter since he’s a knight of another kingdom––maybe he’s managed to sleep through all of this. All he knows is that, if Pez is dead before they are, Henry will lose his fucking mind with grief. 

Sidetracked by scanning the bodies, Alex is caught off guard when he hears the clanging of two swords a little close for comfort. He turns and sees Henry right behind him, protecting Alex from a solider that probably meant to cut him down where he stood. He yelps, unsure of what to do, and watches as Henry tries to fight the soldier. For a brief, glorious moment, it seems like he might win. He lands what should be a fatal blow to the soldier’s chest but, remarkably, the soldier just pulls the sword out of his chest and tosses it aside. 

Alex’s mind is pudding right now––completely useless in the face of such danger. Does he even know a spell that could help with this? He tries to think about the countless incantations he’s learned and practiced since arriving here, but none of them seem particularly useful against a foe who appears not to feel any pain. Still, he tries. He’s so caught up with trying that he doesn’t have the mental space to truly pay attention to the battle between Henry and this soldier––he just watches helplessly as Henry retrieves his sword and gets a few more good swings in. Regardless of the placement or strength of his blows, the soldier remains upright and full of energy, completely unmoved by the multiple wounds on his body. Henry’s energy is depleting––he’s out of breath and pink-faced. Alex closes his eyes to try and imagine a spell that might be useful, but the move proves to be foolish. 

A cry forces him out of his head and back to the battle at hand where there’s a sword piercing through Henry’s armor––slicing through his side. Alex cries out and catches him before he falls. Henry’s already unconscious by the time Alex has him in his arms, so he decides on a spell, not knowing if it will prove to be a good one or not, and uses it on the soldier. The emotion he feels––anger, sadness, guilt––makes his magic strong enough to knock the man unconscious, too. But it doesn’t matter now if the other man is out of the way because Henry is bleeding in Alex’s arms and Alex has no idea what to do with him. Surely there’s some sort of medical area set up to treat the wounded, right? Where would it be? 

Fuck, he’s running out of time. More soldiers are approaching and Henry is dead weight in his arms and bleeding profusely from his wound. Alex has to move––he has to do something. 

“Don’t you dare fucking die on me,” Alex says, using all his strength to get both him and Henry on their feet. He looks around helplessly to see if there’s someone alive and nearby that could help him get Henry somewhere safe, but the only living people around him are the attacking soldiers. He grits his teeth and starts to half drag and half carry Henry back up the steps to the castle, praying that there’s someone inside who can help him get the Prince somewhere safe. 

As it turns out, June is the first person he meets when he enters through the large, double doors. She’s carrying cloths in her arms for bandages, probably, and she stops as soon as she sees him. 

“Alex? What happened?” she asks, checking Alex for signs of injury. 

He supposes that she has a right to be worried about him––he’s covered in blood. Henry’s blood. The thought makes him sick to his stomach.

“Help,” he begs, suddenly on the brink of tears. “He’s––I can’t lose him, June. Not like this.” 

She nods and tucks the cloths under one arm, using the other to take half of Henry’s weight. Together, the two of them maneuver Henry to the Throne Room where, it seems, Raf has set up an area for the injured knights and people of Camelot. As soon as they enter, June waves at Raf who hurries over to them, helping them get Henry on a cot in the corner, away from everyone else. 

“What happened?” 

Alex can’t move. He can’t speak. All he can do is look down at Henry’s too-still form and barely-moving chest. It’s not right––none of this is how it was supposed to go. Alex was supposed to save him from this sort of thing. It was his destiny to protect him.

“I think it’s his side?” June offers, setting a hand on Alex’s shoulder. 

He hardly registers the feeling, honestly. 

Henry’s still there on the cot and getting paler by the second. It’s a bad wound––deep and in a tricky spot that will certainly be hard to heal and bandage properly. 

“Get him out of here,” Alex says. 

Raf stares at him. “What?” 

“I have to––I need you to get him somewhere private.”

Raf pales at the implications. “Kid, you’re not seriously going to risk––”

Alex’s fists clench by his side. “ _Please_ ,” he begs, “I just––I have to try.” 

Raf stares at him for another second, clearly exhausted from running around and treating all of the people in here, but he nods. “June, see if Nora can help get him to my chambers. I need to stay and help everyone else. If anyone stops and asks questions, just say that you’re getting him somewhere safe and that they can come to me if they have a problem with that.” 

June nods and runs off to find June who, Alex suspects, is also in here and helping in any way that she can. Alex tries to get himself in control of his breathing––tries to calm himself down so he can do this right. If he fucks up, Henry will certainly die. His injuries are bad enough that Alex will have to use some serious magic to help him. He’ll have to be as focused as possible to make this work. 

With June and Nora’s help, they get Henry down to Raf’s chambers. They set him on the cot––Raf’s cot––as Alex grabs the old book from his room and flips through it until he finds the spell he’s looking for. There are a few different options on the page, but none of them seem to be the obvious choice. Some require extra ingredients that he knows they don’t have here––things like griffin hearts or mermaid scales. So, he’ll have to make do with what he’s got. And what he’s got is himself, Henry, and an ache in his chest. 

“Do you need help?” Nora asks, looking over his shoulder at the words written on the old pages. 

He sighs. “I just––I’ve never done a spell this powerful before,” he admits. “I don’t even know where to start. This one says I could give him some of my energy––”

“Never a good idea,” Nora says. “It could kill you, instead. What are the other ones?” 

He looks down at the book again and scans the page, coming up short. 

June looks over his other shoulder. “This one,” she says, pointing to one of the spells. 

He squints at the small writing, trying to decipher it. His eyes widen. “It’s not––I don’t––”

“Alex, you _do_. We all know it––we see the way you two look at each other. Do you really think we’re that stupid?” 

He hangs his head. “I’m––”

“We’ll talk about it later,” June promises. “But you need to do this spell _now_. He’s running out of time.”

He looks down at the spell again. The Breath of Life. The incantation is simple enough––made up of words he’s already said for other spells. There are no extra ingredients required. No griffin hearts or mermaid scales necessary. But, even though it seems like the simplest spell in the world, the last line makes Alex feel unsure if he can really do this. In order for the spell to work, he has to love Henry. In order for the spell to work, he has to love Henry more than anyone else in the world––love him enough to make his heart beat again. Love him enough to breathe the life back into his body. 

Somehow, though, that’s not even the hardest part of this spell. No, the hardest part is the warning. The warning that says that the spell only lasts as long as the love does. The moment Alex falls out of love with Henry, if that day ever comes, Henry dies. And he doesn’t know if it’s a risk he’s willing to take. 

Loving Henry, he realizes, is the simplest thing in the fucking world. He’s known it for a while now, he thinks, even if he didn’t admit it out loud. But now, stood here and being forced to confront his feelings for the man in front of him, he knows that he does love him. He loves Henry with everything he has. He’d give his life for Henry’s––give his magic for Henry’s life. He would cross oceans for him, defeat dragons. But is that enough to save him? Is it enough love, a deep enough love, to last him his whole life? 

“Do you feel forever about him?” June asks.

It’s the easiest question he’s ever had to answer. “Yeah,” he whispers, “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	29. Hello, It's Me

Henry starts breathing more regularly after the spell is cast so, combined with the magical glow covering him like a blanket while he sleeps, Alex thinks that he got it right. He doesn’t even have time to think about what all this means, though, because there’s still that army of soldiers trying to get into the castle and, most likely, take control of the throne. So Alex makes June and Nora promise to look after Henry until he gets back, and then, with a sword in hand (just in case), he makes his way to see the one person that can help him figure this out: the dragon. This time, it’s pretty easy to sneak past the guards and get down to the deepest depths of the castle because everyone is a little preoccupied with trying to fight the massive amount of seemingly unkillable soldiers. So he makes his way through the castle and to the dungeon where the dragon is kept, praying that it’ll have some much-needed answers for him. 

“Young warlock,” the dragon remarks as he enters, cocking its massive head to the side. “What brings you here this time?”

Alex looks up at the mighty beast, wondering how best to explain this situation. “A powerful army is trying to take control of the kingdom,” he explains, “and I need to know how to stop them. I saw Henry fight one––Henry ran his blade through the guy but he didn’t fall. He didn’t even _flinch_.”

The dragon stares at him for a moment before nodding like it understands exactly what he means. “The Cup of Life,” the dragon says. 

Alex kind of wants to punch it in the face for being so fucking cryptic when he’s running out of time and patience. “What?”

The dragon sighs like it’s personally offended that Alex isn’t some kind of fucking mind reader. “The Cup of Life,” the dragon says again, “is an ancient relic. It belonged to the Druid people long ago and they used it to save the lives of those who drank from it. But the cup can be used for great evil, as well. It can give someone immortality, so long as their sacrificed blood remains in the goblet itself.” 

Alex frowns, still fucking confused. “So, you think whoever this is has basically created a magical, unkillable army? Who would do that? How do I stop it?”

“You have to find the cup,” the dragon explains, “and knock it over––rid it of its contents.”

Alex nods, understanding all of this a bit better now. “Okay, cool. How exactly am I supposed to do that when there will probably be a bunch of immortal soldiers guarding it? I’m kind of assuming that even my magic can’t just get rid of them.” 

The dragon chuckles. “While you weird great power, you are correct––not even your magic can stop them. There is but one thing I can think of that can kill the undead, but, be warned: it is the most dangerous weapon one could ever possess. Only those that are true of heart should wield such a weapon.” 

Alex chews his lip nervously, knowing that he’s not true of heart. He’s selfish, impulsive, brutally honest, and self-destructive. He’s got a raging fire burning inside of him that really can’t be controlled, no matter how hard he tries. With a weapon so powerful, he thinks he would quickly lose sight of the task at hand––he thinks he might not use it for all of the right reasons. But this weapon might be their only chance at defeating these men and saving the kingdom, so what choice does he have but to accept it? 

But then he thinks of Henry––Henry who is strong and beautiful and everything good in the world. The man that will, someday, be a great king that unites the lands and brings peace to all. 

“I won’t use it,” he says, “but I know someone that can. It’ll be safe in Henry’s hands. I’m sure of it.” 

The dragon nods like it knew Alex would come to this decision. “Very well. I have two conditions.”

Alex has to actively stop himself from groaning in frustration. “Yeah, yeah, okay. What are they?” 

The dragon smiles slightly. “If I give you this weapon, you must promise to hide it until it’s needed again.”

“Done,” Alex says, relieved that he isn’t asking for something harder to do. He has magic––there are literally a thousand different spells for hiding shit. 

“And you must free me,” the dragon adds. 

Alex opens his mouth. Closes it again. Freeing the dragon seems like it might be a good idea in the sense that it feels wrong for it to be kept in chains and below the earth, but there’s something that makes him worry that this will end up being a terrible choice. While dragons are beautiful, powerful creatures, he knows legends about how some caused great damage to kingdoms before they were all killed. There are stories of them setting fire to entire citadels to get revenge, and Alex is slightly terrified that this dragon might not have great motives. 

“What will you do?” he asks, taking a step forward. “What will you do if I free you?”

“That is not of your concern,” the dragon snaps. “Do we have a deal?” 

Alex weights his options for a moment––tries to make a list.

Pros:

1\. Henry will be safe

2\. The kingdom will be safe

3\. They’ll have a weapon that can kill the undead stashed away somewhere

4\. Henry will be the only one that can use the weapon, so at least it’ll always be in good hands

5\. This is the only fucking solution 

Cons:

1\. The dragon might be more than a little pissed-off at Camelot and/or Philip for imprisoning it

2\. The dragon might turn around and just, like, set everything on fire

3\. The dragon might turn around and set _Henry_ on fire

4\. It’s probably not a good idea to trust, of all things, a dragon

5\. This might all be some sort of elaborate trick to get them all killed

With a sigh, Alex nods. “Yeah,” he agrees, “okay. I’m in.” 

If they’re going to die anyway, he might as well try to play hero first, he supposes.

The dragon beams. “Excellent. Now, hold up your sword.” 

Alex unsheathes his sword and holds it up as instructed, having no fucking clue what’s going on. He’s about to open his mouth to ask why he’s here and holding the sword in the air like a madman when the dragon’s mouth opens and flames come spewing out of it. Alex turns his head away from the bright light and heat, afraid that the dragon might just kill him right here and now. But, when he opens his eyes and turns around again, the fire is gone and the dragon is blinking back at him, as innocent as ever. 

“A sword forged in a dragon’s breath,” the dragon tells him. 

Alex turns the blade over in his hands, but it looks exactly the same. Perhaps it has a bit of a golden hue to it now, though. He sheathes it again, not allowing himself to even think about using it. “And this’ll work?” 

The dragon nods. “I need you to promise that you’ll free me when you’ve finished.”

“I swear,” Alex promises him. “I swear on Henry’s life.” 

The dragon chuckles at him. 

“ _What_?”

“Nothing,” the dragon says, still laughing a bit. “It feels like only yesterday you were not so fond of the Prince and your role in his destiny.”

“It’s not _his_ destiny,” Alex protests, “it’s _our_ destiny. And I gotta go save it.”

***

When Henry wakes, he finds himself feeling better than he has in years. With all the training and fighting he does, there’s always some sort of constant ache within him––a sprain from falling off a horse, a bruise from a fight, a scratch from a blade. But when he wakes in Rafael’s chambers, he feels light, happy, and healthy. June and Nora are by his side, eyes wide yet cautious, and watch as he wiggles his fingers and sits up in the bed. He remembers being struck down by one of those soldiers outside in the courtyard. He remembers Alex being there and maybe carrying him somewhere, too, but Alex isn’t here and Henry is, it seems miraculously recovered from the injury. 

“Where’s Alex?” he asks, looking around the room. 

June and Nora look at each other for a moment like they’re unsure if they can tell him the truth. Nora opens her mouth to say something when the door bursts open. At first, the girls jump in fear. June produces a dagger from within her dress, holding it out and looking more threatening than Henry was expecting with such a small blade. He makes a mental note to never get on her bad side. 

But then, when the person enters, it’s not an evil soldier at all––it’s _Alex_. Henry nearly cries in relief, having briefly thought he might have been out there and fighting the evil army, so he jumps to his feet and wraps his arms around him. Alex is quick to hug him back, burying his head in the crook of Henry’s neck for a moment until Alex pulls back to look at Henry for signs of damage. Alex cups Henry’s face in his hands, studying him. 

“Are you okay?” 

Henry nods, though he doesn’t know how it can be true. He swears he was dying only minutes ago. “I’m fine, love,” he insists. “Are you?” 

Alex nods and grins, looking past Henry for a moment. “I figured out a way to stop this.” 

Henry raises his eyebrows, shocked to hear such news. But he watches eagerly as Alex steps past him and unsheathes his sword, holding it up. Henry marvels at the golden hue of the blade for a moment, so lost in its beauty that he doesn’t even register that Alex his holding the sword out to him. When he does register this, he shakes his head. How could Alex think him worthy of such a magnificent blade? Surely it should go to someone better––June or Nora, perhaps. Alex himself might even be better suited to wield such a beautiful weapon, though Henry does not know how much success he would have with it. 

“I––I can’t accept this,” he says, still staring at the blade. 

Alex takes a step towards him, placing the hilt in his hands. “It’s just for today,” he promises, “because I have to return it after. But you can _do_ this, H. You’re the future King of Camelot. If anyone can save the kingdom, it’s you.” 

Henry stares at the sword for a moment, feeling the way the hilt sits heavy in his hand. Oddly enough, it feels more comfortable than any blade he’s held before––it feels, almost, like this sword was made for him. So he wraps his fingers around the hilt and sheathes the blade by his side, waiting to hear what the plan is. 

As it turns out, the plan is insane. Alex tells them about the books he read about unkillable armies, discovering that the men must be using the Cup of Life to grant themselves immortality. The mention os such vile magic makes Henry’s blood boil in his veins. But Alex’s brown eyes, ever sure, make him feel a little calmer about the whole thing. With Alex by his side, he thinks he could do anything in the world. Even take down a seemingly unbeatable army. 

So he and Alex make their way through the now-infiltrated corridors of the castle. And, though Henry has never much cared for being the Prince, he finds it disheartening to see the place he grew up overtaken by an army of evil sorcerers. One of his favorite paintings has been cut to shreds on the wall, and one of the rugs he remembers tripping on as a young boy is covered in blood. So he keeps his head high and his sword in his hand, refusing to look at the carnage and change around him. Instead, he focuses on the task at hand. When they encounter a soldier, he cuts him down as if it means nothing to him. This once impossible battle seems more and more manageable with each slice of his sword through the chest of one of these evil men. He has half a mind to ask Alex how he procured such a weapon, but he isn’t sure he wants to know the sword’s origins. He’s not stupid––he knows that this is no ordinary blade. 

As it turns out, the soldiers aren’t actually good fighters. So, with a remarkable blade that is actually capable of making them bleed, Henry finds it quite easy to cut them down when he stumbles across one. Soon enough, they make it to the Throne Room where Alex believes the Cup of Life is being held and, most likely, guarded by a plethora of guards. 

Henry's hand is on the door, ready to throw it open, but Alex’s hand lands on top of his own for a moment.

“ _Hey_ ,” Alex says, “you’ve got this.”

Henry nods and clenches his jaw before pulling the door open to meet whatever horrors wait for him on the other side of it. 

But there’s no mass of guards in the room. There’s nothing but a pedestal, a cup, a body to his left, and a familiar face in front of him upon the throne. 

“Hello, Henry,” the familiar face grins. 

Henry tightens his grip on his sword. “Hello, Gran.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, more trash for ya! 
> 
> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on Tumblr. come yell at me there ;) could be kinky


	30. Don't Touch My Boyfriend, Bitch

Alex looks nervously between Henry and Henry’s insane grandmother, wondering if he should intervene. She doesn’t appear to be actually _doing_ anything, though, which seems like a small victory. But Henry’s grip tightens on his sword as soon as the two of them lock eyes, and Alex recognizes that glint in Henry’s beautiful blue eyes. It’s the same glint he saw after Henry came back from his little venture with Richards when he tried to tear Philip apart piece by piece. The glint terrifies him and makes him want to protect Henry because, while he can certainly handle himself in a duel, Alex knows that Mary is practically unbeatable. If Henry tries to take her on, he’ll surely fail. Not even Alex’s magic will be strong enough to help him come back from whatever she’s got in store for him. 

“I’m surprised, Henry,” she begins, still staring, “that you didn’t die in that cave.”

Henry sticks his chin out in defiance. “What do you _want_ , Gran?” 

Alex looks at Mary helplessly, wondering if there’s some sort of spell that could knock her out. There’s dark magic coming off of her in waves, though––so strong that Alex has to swallow the bitter taste down where he stands. It’s so intoxicating that he feels like he could just fall right into it, but Henry’s by his side and needs him to stay strong. He plants his feet into the ground and tries to push past and ignore it, instead. 

“I want what is rightfully mine,” she says, gesturing to the throne. 

Alex realizes, suddenly, that there’s a crown on his head. His attention to detail isn’t great at the moment since there’s too much going on for him to process, but as soon as he sees the crown, he recognizes it. He wonders if Henry recognizes it, too, or if he’s oblivious. It seems entirely possible, given Henry’s hatred of the whole being a Royal thing, that he might not know who that crown belongs to. Or, at least, _had_ belonged to. Alex looks down at the body on the floor and, just like that, his worst fears are confirmed. The body lying there, lifeless and creepy still, is Philip. 

Alex bites his lip nervously, hoping Henry doesn’t recognize who it is. 

“You gave up your right to the throne long ago,” Henry seethes, “when you started practicing dark magic.”

Alex doesn’t think he’s seen him this mad before. 

Mary ignores him, turning to Alex, instead. “You,” she begins, “are not as dead as I thought you might be.” 

Alex winces involuntarily, remembering that she had him poisoned. If Henry doesn’t run her through, Alex might. Being poisoned really fucking hurt. 

Henry’s face goes pale and he looks to Alex helplessly for a moment before turning back to his grandmother. “ _You_ poisoned him? Why? He’s…he’s just a servant!”   
The words feel like a slap across Alex’s face––like a knife twisting in his heart. He swallows a lump in his throat and very pointedly doesn’t look at Henry. Honestly, he doesn’t think he _can_ look at Henry right now, given those words. Is this what Henry really thinks of him? As just a servant? Even if Henry doesn’t know about their intertwined destinies or Alex’s magic, surely he thinks of Alex as more than someone to just clean up after him. Do the kisses mean nothing to him? If Alex means nothing to him, then what have they been doing for the past few weeks? If they both come out of this alive, Alex thinks he might need to have a conversation with Henry about this. 

“Is he really?” Mary asks, a cruel smile on her face. 

She raises a hand towards Alex and, suddenly, Alex can’t breathe. It must be some sort of choking spell––something that forms invisible ropes that snake around his throat. He tries desperately to get air but he can’t. Henry’s blue eyes are staring at him, terrified, but Alex can’t say anything to help him or ease his mind right now. All he can do is point at the cup, hoping that Henry gets the message. 

Henry turns back to his grandmother, looking more determined than ever. “Let him go,” he demands, voice rough and commanding. 

It sends a shiver down Alex’s spine. 

“Your quarrel is with me,” he says, “not with him. Release him.” 

Mary laughs. “What _are_ you going to do, Henry? You can’t kill me––I’m a High Priestess.”

Henry growls and takes a step forward. 

The edges of Alex’s vision are blurred.

“Fighting me does not make you brave, Henry,” Mary chides, “it makes you foolish. Just like your brother.” 

She gestures lamely to Philip’s body on the ground. Henry looks at it for a moment and Alex sees that click of recognition in his eyes. 

It’s the last thing he sees before the world turns black. 

_center_

The second Alex hits the ground, Henry’s sword is in the air and swinging violently as he charges towards his grandmother. Honestly, his movements don’t even register with him as he runs––he’s blinded and compelled by pure, red-hot anger. Anger for doing whatever she did to Philip and for what she’s done to Alex––anger for everything she’s ever done to both members of his family and the people of Camelot. He doesn’t often have such strong, negative emotions, but he _hates_ her. Wholeheartedly. 

At the last second, he remembers himself. There’s a plan that Alex explained to him and there’s the fact that he probably can’t kill her. So, just as he’s about to strike her with the magnificent blade, he turns and knocks the Cup of Life from the pedestal, spilling the contents on the stones below. Mary screams and the windows explode as she cries out, clearly upset that her great plan cannot come to fruition. Henry ducks in time to avoid cuts on his face, but he feels small bits of glass slice his arms. When he looks up again, she’s gone. 

He drops his sword and rushes to Alex’s side to see if he’s breathing. As soon as Henry falls to his knees, Alex sits up and coughs, rubbing at his probably aching throat. Henry slides an arm around his back to help him stay upright, rubbing circles on it to soothe him. Alex’s brown eyes blink up at him in shock for a moment before he turns to see the spot where Mary once stood, obviously thinking that she’s still around. It’s easy to see the moment Alex notices both her absence and the spilled blood upon the floor, because his eyes go wide and he looks at Henry with his mouth hanging open in shock. 

Henry can’t help but chuckle. “What, did you doubt me?” 

Alex shakes his head. “No, of course not. It’s just––where did she go?” 

Henry shrugs and gets to his feet, offering Alex a hand. He pulls Alex up and their chests are touching, closer than they’ve been since the fast, messy kiss in the alcove. “Oh,” Henry says, breathless, “hello.” 

Alex rolls his eyes and surges up to kiss Henry, wrapping his arms around Henry’s waist. Henry melts into the kiss, having previously thought that this was something he wouldn’t get to do anymore. But, against all odds, they’re both alive and relatively unharmed. And Henry could not be more grateful for that fact. 

He goes to deepen the kiss when Alex bites his lip. _Hard_.

“Ouch,” he exclaims, pulling away to tend to his now bleeding lip, “what was that for?” 

“For saying I was just a servant,” Alex tells him, not sounding particularly upset about it, though. “I’m more than your little helper.” 

Of everyone he knows, Alex is the one he knows best. He’s guarded in a way that Henry isn’t, though he tends to come off as an open book. But Henry has kissed those frowning lips before and he’s had his fingers against Alex’s thrumming pulse. They share an intimacy that makes Henry know exactly what’s going through that funny head of his. And, when Alex has this mock pissed-off expression on his face, Henry knows it to be nothing more than a mask to obscure a more deep-rooted hurt within him. Henry shakes his head and takes Alex’s face in his hands, running his thumbs up and down Alex’s sharp jawline. 

“Darling,” he begins, “you’re _so_ much more than my servant. I just––I didn’t want her to hurt you more. I haven’t a clue why she poisoned you in the first place, and the thought of her taking you away from me…it terrified me. I’m so sorry. You…you mean everything to me, Alex. Everything.” 

Alex smiles sheepishly before kissing Henry again, softer, this time. 

He pulls away fairly quickly. “We need to check on your brother,” he says, gesturing to Philip’s body. 

Henry nods solemnly and moves over to the body, fearing what he might find. He doesn’t know which would be more terrifying––finding Philip dead or finding him alive? With clenched eyes, he puts two fingers to Philip’s neck, feeling the faint pulse there. 

“He’s alive,” he says, mostly to himself. 

“We need to get him somewhere,” Alex notes from behind him. “Where does the King go when he’s sick?” 

Henry thinks about it for a moment. “His chambers,” he says, thinking it’s probably true. “That’s where he should be. We get him there then call the physician to come heal him.”   
Alex nods and helps Henry carry Philip through the castle and up to the King’s chambers. Together, they set him down on the bed and on top of the blankets, propping his head up with a pillow. There’s a nasty gash on his shoulder and one on his stomach, and Henry knows that Philip will be resigned to his bed for some time while he heals. He doesn’t much like the thought of having to run off and do his brother’s bidding. 

“You’re hurt, too,” Alex says, his voice soft. 

Soft fingertips graze over Henry’s arms and across the small cuts on them. It should hurt, he thinks, but it doesn’t. This might be the most loving touch he’s ever experienced––the most vulnerable he’s let himself be around Alex. It feels wrong to have such a moment in Philip’s chambers, but he’s not about to stop it. 

“I’m fine,” he whispers. 

Alex leans down and kisses the inside of Henry’s wrist like it will heal the minor injuries on his forearms. For some reason, the gesture makes Henry feel like he might cry.   
Instead, he straightens his posture and pulls his arm away. “Let’s go get help,” he insists. 

Together, they leave Philip’s chambers and go down to find Rafael Luna. 

It feels, somehow, like there’s been a shift between them. Something big that he feels in his gut. Perhaps it’s the fact that they very nearly died multiple times today, or perhaps it’s because Mary is a very real threat now. Either way, it feels like the beginning of something. The only problem is that he has no idea what it’s the beginning of. Something good, he hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!!!


	31. What's Another Lie?

They hold hands on the way, at least until other people start to move by, and Alex notices that Henry’s palms are bleeding, too. So Henry’s blood gets on Alex’s hands, but Alex doesn’t quite mind it. There’s half an idea in his head right now, not completely formed, and Henry’s blood is going to be useful for the complete idea if he gets around to figuring it all out. 

Alex leaves Raf with Henry and Philip, asking him to keep an eye on Henry for him. Raf doesn’t even ask any questions about it––he just nods and puts reassuring hand on Alex’s shoulder before shutting the door. Alex has already told Henry not to wait up for him tonight, claiming that he has to go on an emergency herb run for Raf to treat the survivors of the attack. It’s a lie, of course, like most things are with Henry these days. So, as soon as Henry is safe and getting looked after, Alex makes his way down to the Throne Room to grab the sword. Before he hides it, he has to uphold the other part of the agreement: freeing the dragon. It seems like a terrible idea, obviously, but he swore on Henry’s life that he would do it. There are a lot of things he’s reckless with, but not Henry. Never Henry. 

He makes his way down to the dungeons with a fire lit in his palm. The dragon sits up when he enters, clearly excited for this moment. 

“How do I free you?” he asks, eyeing the chain that keeps the creature prisoner here. 

“With the sword,” the dragon tells him. 

Alex nods and holds the hilt firmly in his hand before his brings it down onto the chain, breaking it. It’s the magical properties of the blade, he thinks, that makes the iron explode like it’s made of porcelain. 

The dragon wastes no time, instantly flying up and out of the cave in which it has been held prisoner for so long now. And, for now, that’s the end of the story. The dragon goes one way and Alex goes the other. 

The way he goes is to the forest. Deep within the forest where he’s not likely to be seen by anyone dwelling here. There’s a clearing with a rock standing strong in the center of it, and Alex thinks that it’s the perfect place to stash the sword until he needs it again. He recites an incantation, binding it with Henry’s blood––which is still on his palm––so only Henry can remove the weapon. And then he leaves the clearing and returns to Camelot feeling satisfied and like he’s kept his promise to the dragon. He just hopes that it’s enough. 

As they find out three days later, or, rather, what they are _reminded_ of three days later, is that Alex is a fucking dumbass. He’s made a lot of mistakes in his life just like everyone else, but no one else ever released a murderous dragon just so they could get a magical sword. And, well, that’s completely on Alex. He’s an idiot and so breathtakingly stupid that it’s a shock he’s still alive and has to face these consequences, but here he is. The sun is rising after a long, horrible night, night being the worst time. The dragon loves the night––loves the contrast of the dark sky and its roaring flame. Camelot gets royally fucked at night by this stupid fucking dragon that Alex should have never trusted in the first place. 

Now the entire kingdom is paying for his mistake. 

Since Philip is still healing––mostly because Alex refuses to use magic to speed up the process for him––Henry is the one in charge of leading the attacks on the beast. They’ve lost countless men over the two days of the dragon’s wrath, and they plan on losing many more before this fight is over and done with. It’s absurd, really, that Alex is spending his alone time with Henry by fighting a fucking vengeful dragon. A dragon that, despite his best efforts, Alex can’t seem to defeat. It’s more powerful than he is, he thinks, and that’s why his magic has no effect on it. He’s tried hundreds of spells at this point––immobilizing ones, freezing ones, fire ones, turn-you-into-stone ones. Nothing works and he’s not sure how long they can last like this. 

“I have an idea,” Raf blurts out, interrupting whatever stupid train of thought Philip was rambling on about from his bed. He’s propped up with pillows behind him, very much looking like the prissy, cowardly King that he is. He’s even got maids and servants bringing up fresh pots of tea for him every hour or so, even though he never finishes them. 

“Which is?” Philip asks, eyebrow raised. 

Alex isn’t sure why he’s here, if he’s being honest. He’s so sleep deprived at this point that he doesn’t remember accepting the invite to this weird conversation or meeting or whatever this is. 

“We find a dragon lord,” Raf says. 

The room goes quiet for a moment. Henry’s eyes widen at the word, but Alex has no idea what it means. He’s never heard of a dragon lord, though he thinks that the name might be pretty self-explanatory. Still, though, he knows better than to ask questions right now. 

“I killed all of the dragon lords,” Philip reminds him. 

Alex tries not to wince at the mention of Philip’s murderous, anti-magic killing spree. 

“What if…what if one escaped?” 

Philip doesn’t seem particularly pleased to hear this question. “Are you saying that you know of one that escaped?” 

“I’ve heard rumors,” Raf begins, “of one that lives by the river in Cornyn’s lands.”

Alex perks up at the mention of Cornyn––that’s where Austin resides. Who is this man that Rafael speaks of? How does he know of these rumors?

“Do you know his name?” Philip inquires, doubtful. 

“Yes,” Raf admits, hanging his head slightly, “his name is Oscar.”

Alex’s throat goes dry at the mention of the name. He looks at Raf, eyes wide and wet. All this time, as Rafael known where Alex’s father is? Has he known about him and just not told Alex? Alex feels like he can’t breathe––his lungs aren’t working anymore. 

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” he says, bowing his head before quickly leaving the room.

His feet carry him to the hallway outside of Philip’s chambers where he instantly puts his back against the wall and attempts to catch his breath. It’s fine to mention his father offhandedly and in random conversations, but only because, for him, Oscar Diaz has always been more of an idea than an actual human being. He’s a shadow––or a guardian angel, perhaps––that’s not a physical presence in his life. He doesn’t quite remember him to begin with, so it’s not like it still hurts him to think about his father as some sort of non-human entity. But now, hearing his name dropped in a conversation where it makes it very, _very_ clear that he’s a real human that could, as a matter of fact, end up being useful to them right now, makes his stomach hurt and his head ache. What happens if he meets him? What happens if he meets him and it’s terrible? 

Or, even worse––what happens if he meets him and it’s amazing but then he loses it all over again? 

There’s a hand pressed against the small of his back, somehow wedged between him and the wall. He jumps at the feeling of it, not expecting someone else to be here and touching him. When he looks up, he finds Henry standing to his side with a nervous, terrified expression on his face. The look instantly makes Alex’s heart sink, making him feel like a complete asshole for making Henry worry about him like this. He’s already shaking his head, trying to muster the courage to say that he’s fine, but the words don’t have enough air to leave his throat. They cut stuck there and make him gasp for air. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Henry asks, his voice soft and quiet. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex manages. “I just––I’m sorry. I needed a minute.” 

“Take all the time you need, love,” Henry assures him, still looking worried. “We’re about done, anyway. We’ve decided that, since Philip is temporarily unable to do much, that I’m going to head to the forest where this dragon lord lives. I shouldn’t be gone long––two days, I think.” 

“Cool,” Alex says, feeling a bit better now. “When do we leave?” 

Henry raises an eyebrow. “We?” 

“I’m obviously not letting you go out alone,” Alex says with a light chuckle, trying to get rid of some of the heavy tension in the air. “I don’t know if you forgot, but there’s a very angry dragon on the loose.” 

Henry chuckles, too, for a moment before his face turns serious again. “Are you sure you can come?” 

Alex cocks his head. “What? Why wouldn’t I?” 

Henry shrugs. “I hate magic,” he begins, which makes Alex want to throw up, “so I’m obviously not thrilled about going to a magical man for help, but you…if the thought hurts you this much, I don’t want you to feel like you have to go.” 

Alex sighs, not knowing what to say. He obviously can’t tell Henry that the man they’re going to see is his father because it would be too easy for Henry to put two and two together––Oscar has magic and, therefore, it would make sense if Alex had it, too. As much as Alex hates lying to Henry, he knows that it’s all he can do right now. If he tells Henry the truth, Henry will have him burned at the stake. It’s an impossible position and decision to make, but he’s already started lying to Henry. He’s been lying since they met. What’s another lie? 

Alex prepares the horses and supplies for their journey, assisted by Raf who seems incredibly nervous about Alex going on this mission.

“He can’t find out, kid,” he says, as if Alex isn’t already completely aware of this. 

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, fastening a buckle on the horse, “I know.”

Raf is quiet for a moment, just watching Alex secure everything for the long day ahead. “How are you feeling about it? About seeing him?” 

Alex shrugs. He really doesn’t know how he feels about this. It’s weird, but he feels like he’ll have a better sense of it when he sees his father again. “I just hope he helps us,” he decides to say. 

Raf nods along. “Good luck, kid,” he says. “Tell him I say hi, okay?” 

Alex nods and accepts a hug from Raf before he leaves Alex with the horses. The goodbyes aren’t quite done yet, it seems. 

“I’m glad I caught you before you left,” June says, entering the stables.

Alex shoots her a small smile but doesn’t know what to say. 

“Don’t be too hard on him, okay?” 

Alex snorts. “Wow, thanks.” 

June rolls her eyes and steps toward him. “You know what I mean, Alex. It’s not his fault he left––he left so we could all be safe.” 

Alex’s fists curl by his sides. “You mean so you and mom could be safe,” he snaps. “He fucked off to protect you two.”

June stares at him for a moment. “Alex––”

“No,” he says, his anger practically rolling off of him in waves. “You don’t get to tell me how to feel about him, Bug. He––You’re so fucking lucky. Do you know that? You and mom don’t have to worry about shit like I do. You’re not––Henry would literally have me killed if he knew who I was. Do you know how that feels? To know that the person you love only likes you back conditionally? And our father...He's...And he’s the one person that should have been there for me––to help me control it and learn how to use it for good. And he wasn’t, June. He left because he was being a fucking coward and didn’t really care about us––just about himself.”

June, who looks like she might cry, opens her mouth to say something. 

Alex loves her––he really does––but he doesn’t want to hear it. “I need to get going,” he says, turning away from her. “I’ll tell him you send your love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	32. Holy Shit, Man!

They stop for the night in a small tavern and inn, planning on getting to sleep and waking up early the next morning for the last leg of the journey. Honestly, Henry is thrilled to share a bed with Alex like this, just the two of them with no one else coming in and scaring the living hell out of them. It will be nice for him to sleep with Alex in his arms, breathing in his scent, knowing that he’s just a breath away. But Alex doesn’t seem thrilled at the idea. He’s been off all day––mopey and brooding and silent. Henry has no idea what to say or do to make him feel better or how to assure him that yes, magic is evil, but this man will be worth it because he can help everyone in Camelot. It’s obvious that Alex hates magic with a passion, but Henry is at a loss for how to comfort him right now. What does he say? What does he do? 

“Do you want to talk?” he asks, sitting on the bed and watching as Alex paces the small room nervously. 

Alex freezes and looks at him, eyes wide. “What? No, I’m fine.” 

Henry frowns. “Darling, you’re not fine. You can talk to me, you know.”

Alex sighs and sits down on the bed, far away from Henry. “I’m just tired,” he tries.

Henry reaches out for him but Alex pulls back. “ _Alex_ ,” he tries. 

“I’m just…I’m worried about everyone back home,” Alex admits, his back still to Henry.

“Me, too.” 

He just hopes that Alex feels comfortable enough talking to him about things like this––he wants to be there for him in anyway he can be. Alex has saved his life in more ways than one, so Henry wants to return the favor if at all possible. But, for tonight, he lets Alex take the space he needs, trying not to get upset when Alex curls into a ball on the other side of the bed––far away from him. 

When they wake up early the next morning, they grab some food from the tavern and head out to the forest where it is rumored that this man is living these days. Henry isn’t paying much attention to the path in front of him, choosing to focus on Alex, instead. He’s still quiet and brooding, but he’s talked a bit more today than he did the day before. He’s not back to normal yet, but Henry feels that rest did him some good. There’s a certain glint back in his eyes which seems like progress, but he still seems unfocused and nervous. Henry regrets bringing him along on this trip––how was he supposed to know just how deeply Alex hates magic?

His eyes are so focused on Alex––and his head is so high up in the clouds––that he doesn’t see the bandits on the hillside. He only realizes that the bandits are going to attack when one of them lets out some sort of charging cry and they all start shooting crossbows and arrows at him and Alex. 

“Get down!” Henry shouts, moving to jump off his horse. 

He’s too late, though. 

He feels it before he really registers it––an arrow in his shoulder. He groans and tries to hold onto the reins of his horse, but the pain shooting through his arm is too great. He falls off of the horse and onto the leafy ground of the forest, closing his eyes and wincing in pain as his shaky fingers fumble to find the arrow. There’s a cacophony of noise all around him––a combination of both Alex and the bandits, he thinks––before an eerie silence. He opens one eye to survey the damage and see if Alex is still here and, when his vision focuses, Alex’s face is right in front of his own. Alex’s brown eyes are blown wide as he looks at the arrow still protruding from Henry’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, getting his hands around it. “This is gonna hurt, okay? But I have to do this.” 

Henry nods weakly, not really sure what he’s subjecting himself to here. 

Alex closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and yanks the arrow out of Henry’s arm.

***

Henry passes out the moment Alex yanks the arrow out. The wound starts bleeding as soon as the arrow is gone, so Alex quickly tears some of his shirt off to stop the bleeding. Since Henry is unconscious, he risks a healing spell, too. Something to keep him asleep and to heal him while he rests. He closes his eyes and murmurs the incantation, but nothing happens. He tries again. Nothing. He mumbles a string of curses to himself while he gets Henry settled on Alex’s horse––since Henry’s ran off in all the chaos––and he starts leading them deeper into the forest, hoping to come across someone that might be able to help them. He knows, logically, that a shoulder wound isn’t exactly fatal. The odds are that Henry will be perfectly fine, but Alex can’t help but worry about him. Especially since his magic doesn’t appear to be working. 

When they come across the end of a stream that meets the mouth of a cave, Alex feels a flicker of hope flutter through him. Based on the random items outside the cave––some clothing on a line, what looks like a stool––he thinks that someone might live here. If someone’s living here in a cave, far away from the rest of the world, the odds are they possess magic. If they possess magic, maybe they can help. 

“Hello?” he calls, still with a hand on the reigns of the horse as he guides it to the cave. Henry still sleeps peacefully on the back of it. “Is anyone in there? We need help.”

There’s the sound of feet against rock and then, from the shadows, a face appears. The man steps out into the sunlight, squinting at Alex. “Who are you?” 

Alex swallows, unsure of what to say. If this man possesses magic, he thinks it might not be best to mention that he’s the servant to the Prince of Camelot and that the Prince of Camelot happens to be the one that needs saving. “I’m, uh, John,” he says. “This is…Edward, my friend. He got shot in the arm and needs help.”

The man looks skeptical but gestures for Alex to follow him inside. Alex grins and gets Henry off of the horse, half-dragging, half-carrying him inside the cave.

It’s obvious that this man, whoever he is, has lived here for a few years. There’s a collection of random items and assorted goods and food, along with a pile of blankets and pillows in the corner that probably serves as his bed. While it’s a cave, it’s still a pretty nice place. It looks lived in––homey. Cozier than any room in the castle, for sure. It reminds him, vacantly, of the small cottage in Austin with his mother and June and Leo. So, if he tells Henry about his magic and Henry banishes him, maybe he can come hang out with this random guy in this sweet cave. There are worse places to be. 

They set Henry down on the makeshift bed. The man looks at the wound, grimaces, then goes through jars and vials for a moment, returning with what looks like a bunch of random herbs and tonics. 

“Are you some kind of physician?” Alex asks, watching the man’s calloused hands rub some sort of balm or paste on the wound. 

“No,” the man replies. “I just had a friend who knew a lot about healing.” 

Alex smiles, thinking of all he’s learned from Raf about the subject. 

The man closes his eyes and mumbles something that Alex recognizes as another language. It sounds like a healing spell, but it’s not in the tongue of magic. “Do you…know magic?” 

The man’s eyes open and widen as he stares at Alex for a moment before shaking his head. “It was just a prayer,” he explains, “in my native tongue.” 

Alex realizes that, while that was technically a response, it didn’t actually answer his question. But he doesn’t want to pry or push this man––he’s giving them free help and medicine, after all. So he follows the man when he goes outside to the stream, taking a random jug and filling it with water. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” 

The man nods. “The arrow was coated in some sort of poison,” he explains, heading back inside with the jug. Alex follows. “It’s probably why your magic didn’t work.” 

Alex nearly gasps. “What? I don’t––”

The man laughs, but it’s not in a mean way. He puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder and squeezes it lightly. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he promises.

“How did you…know?” 

“A few different ways,” he says, setting the jug down on a table inside the cave. “First, you asked me about magic––if I knew it. Second, your magic is all over that boy.”

Alex can’t help but blush. He tugs a hands through his curls. “It is?”

The man nods. “I may not know spells,” he says, “but I was born of magic. I recognize it when I see it.”

Alex is interested––he never gets to hear about anyone else with magic. It’s always been a forbidden subject for him, even when he used to ask his mother a million questions about it. For him, magic has always been something to be kept quiet. Hidden. Secret. No one––apart from Raf––has been open to having a conversation with him about it, let alone offer up their own story about it. Maybe this is a chance for him to learn more about magic and why he has it. Maybe this man can tell him something about dragon lords so he’s more prepared for when he meets his father. It would be nice to know some more information before wading into that shitstorm, he thinks. Just enough knowledge to get him through a conversation.

“How can you be born with magic but not have it?” Alex asks. 

The man sighs, stilling for a moment. Alex is afraid that he’s pushed too far and asked something that’s just going to upset him, but then the man turns to the small cooking area and retrieves some vegetables from one of the shelves, chopping it up. It’s probably so he has something to do with his hands while he talks––Alex gets that. He’s the same way.   
“Some people are born with abilities like yours,” he begins. “The ability to harness and use magic to alter the world around them.”

No one’s ever explained it to him like this before. It’s very clear that this man knows what he’s talking about––that he understands how the world works and that magic is a vital part of every aspect of life. It’s the first person he’s talked to that hasn’t made him feel, to some extent, afraid of himself or what he can do. This might turn out to be the best conversation of his life. 

“Some people have hints of magic in them––the ability to manipulate certain things.” 

“That’s my sister,” Alex chimes in. “She’s good with elements.” 

The man smiles. “Yeah. Well, then there are people like me––born with magic that can’t alter the world. Like Seers and their ability to see the future but not change it.” 

Alex thinks about his words for a moment, letting it all soak in. “Okay,” he says, when he’s sure he understands, “so what are you? Or, like, what kind of magic do you have?” 

“I’m a dragon lord,” the man says.

The world feels a bit fuzzy. 

His head is spinning. 

If this man is a dragon lord––the _last_ dragon lord––than that means…

“Holy shit,” Alex gasps, eyes blown wide open. “You’re my father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!
> 
> hehe, did you like that cliffhanger?


	33. Unstoppable

“Holy shit,” Alex gasps, eyes blown wide open. “You’re my father.”

The man looks at him. Alex can’t place the look in his eyes––disgust? Hatred? Denial? Unsure of what to expect, he just braces himself for the worst. After, this guy hasn’t been a part of Alex’s life since the very beginning––there’s no evidence to say that his feelings would have randomly changed now. Surely he still doesn’t want to burden himself with Alex or having to deal with him. It’s why he left, isn’t it? Because of Alex’s magic? And maybe having this “altering” magic is a deal breaker for this man and maybe he’s only okay with semi-magical people like Seers or other dragon lords. But a sorcerer? Someone with some of the strongest magic ever running through their veins? Someone who has the ability to manipulate the world around him based on his emotions? He might make Alex leave. If that happens, Henry might not be okay. The guy will probably compel a dragon to kill them both. 

There are arms around him. He flinches at first, not knowing if this is some sort of attack, but finds himself wrapped in a giant hug. So he leans into the feeling, never having experienced this before. He wraps his arms around the man, too. His _father_. 

“Mijo,” his father says, “did you really think I didn’t know that?”

They pull apart, both smiling like idiots. Alex feels happy tears stinging his eyes. “You knew? The whole time?” 

His father rolls his eyes. “Alex, did you really think I believed that your name was John? Or that the man over there is named Edward?” 

Alex bites his lip. “Uh…yeah? Maybe? I don’t know––it’s not like I’ve really…met you before. That I can remember.”

Oscar flinches. While Alex is still fucking pissed at him, he’s trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and seeing his father very obviously tortured about the past makes Alex feel just the smallest hint of guilt. It’s tiny, though. Barely there. 

“Let’s go outside,” he suggests, putting a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Where we won’t be interrupted if His Royal Highness wakes up.” 

Alex nods and silently follows his father outside. The darkness has started to gather all around them and there’s a nip in the air that makes Alex shiver. They sit down in some sort of fire pit area, only the fire isn’t lit. Oscar looks at him for a moment with another face that Alex can’t quite figure out, until he then gestures to the logs and sticks between them. Grinning, Alex uses his magic to light it. It’s weird because he’s never really done this in front of someone before. Even with June, Nora, Raf, his mother, and Liam, they all looked at him like they were scared both for and of him. It was like they were thinking both about how they hoped no one saw and also like they were nervous of what might happen if Alex was too unfocused and set them on fire. But his father just smiles at him––a big, wild smile. 

“I’m proud of you, mijo,” he says. “Raf’s training is paying off, huh?” 

Alex raises an eyebrow. “How did you know about that?”

Oscar sighs and fiddles with his fingers for a moment, obviously nervous. “I didn’t want to leave you,” he says. 

And it’s definitely not what Alex was expecting to hear right now. Slightly confused and uncomfortable, he fidgets on the log he’s sitting on. 

“Even when you were a kid, we knew that you were different. Your magic was powerful from the start. And your mother…she was scared for you. And magic has always been feared, even before that King came in and killed everyone for having it. And, back when you were born, everyone was scared shitless of dragons. There were raids and battles in the south––people trying to kill dragons which just made them mad. So they did what people always do––they looked for someone to blame. And…”

“And they blamed you?” 

Oscar nods. “All dragon lords, really. We didn’t know what to do. And your mother thought that they would come for me. She wanted to move all of us––take us somewhere safe. But I didn’t want to do that to you and June. So I left.” 

Alex takes a deep breath and nods, trying to find it in his heart to understand. “You should have taken me with you,” he whispers.

“Alex––”

“Do you have any idea what it was like for me? Growing up with…with what I am? In a village where everyone––including my own fucking family––was scared of me? Of what I could do? And you…you could have been the person that helped me. You could have made it _better_.”

A heavy silence fills the space between them. For a moment, all he can hear is the crackling of the fire and the wind around them––the magic flowing through the roots of the trees and through the rustling of the air. He closes his eyes, allowing the soothing calmness of the raw magic here to fill him up and calm him down. 

He’s not even mad at Oscar for leaving. That’s the thing. He’s just…sad. He’s so fucking heartbroken that he never got to have _this_ with him––this with the one person that actually understands what he’s going through and how it makes him feel. The man sitting before him is the one person that could have taken all of his anger and sadness and turned it into something more positive from the very beginning. If his father had been around to help him control his magic and learn how to use it, maybe he wouldn’t _feel_ so fucking much all of the time. Maybe his emotions wouldn’t start fires or shatter glass. Maybe he wouldn’t be so fucking afraid of what he is––too afraid to tell the man he loves the fucking truth about him. So, no. He’s not mad. He’s just a heartbroken kid realizing that there’s this whole other life he could have led. And it sucks.

“You’re such a small man for such a great destiny,” Oscar says. 

The words feel foreign at first. Unknown. But then, after a moment, Alex remembers the dragon. It was one of the first things the dragon said to him the day that they met. “How could you possibly––”

“I may not have been a good father,” Oscar continues, “or around that much. But don’t think for one second that you were ever alone.”

Alex feels like he might cry. He swallows his tears down––tries to be here and coherent enough to have this conversation. “It was _you_?” he asks. “All this time, _you_ were the dragon? You were the one giving me advice and telling me that I was…that I mean something?”

“I spoke through him,” Oscar says, “sometimes. I got to see you through his eyes. And I know that’s not a lot, but, for me…it was everything.”

Alex wipes traitorous tears from his eyes, really not wanting to cry right now. He doesn’t want his first conversation with his father to be this heavy and sad. “So you manipulated me to free you so you could try to kill everyone I know?” 

Oscar lets out a watery laugh. “No, that was all him. He’s a manipulative bastard.” 

Alex laughs, too, and they’re both just sitting here and cracking up. There’s warmth blooming in his chest––the fire burns a little bit brighter. 

“So…will you help?” he asks once the laughter dies down.

“Do you even have to ask?”

Alex chuckles and shakes his head. “I guess not.” He takes a deep breath. “ _Father_.”

***

Henry wakes up to someone flicking his face.

“Get up,” the person tells him. “Get up, get up, get up, get up.” 

Henry groans and rolls over to his other side to get away from them, but there’s a sharp pain when he does. He groans as the person rolls him back over so he’s not on his injured shoulder, putting their hand on his cheek. 

“Sweetheart,” the person says.

Henry opens his eyes.

Gorgeous, _beautiful_ Alex is on the ground next to him, obviously trying to get him to wake up for something. He smiles at his love then takes a moment to assess their current situation because he does not remember a single thing that happened after he was shot with the arrow. From his strange perspective and sleepy brain, he wants to say that they’re in some kind of lived-in cave. Cozy, perhaps, but still a cave. He sits up, not protesting when Alex helps him and hands him some water. 

“Where are we?” 

“The dragon lord’s place,” Alex says, seeming far too smiley for such an early hour. “But we’re got to get going, okay?”

“Is he not going to help us?” 

Alex grins and kisses his forehead. “He’s coming back with us. But we have to go so we can get there as soon as possible, you know? I mean, no pressure, but every moment we waste here is a moment where, like, a bunch of people might die.”

Henry nods seriously, moving to get up. Alex has to help him, but he makes it to his feet okay. The room (if it can be called that) is spinning––just a bit––and Alex’s comforting touch on the small of his back is the only thing keeping him upright. After a moment, the world feels normal again and he braves taking a step forward, leaning on Alex just slightly as he does so. He can’t help but cozy up to him, leaning even more of his weight on Alex just so he can feel the thrum of Alex’s heart beating right alongside his own––so he knows that they’re both here and alive and have, apparently, gotten what they came here for. 

When they step out into the sunlight, there’s a man with a beard there who waves to them in greeting. For some reason, Alex’s face lights up at the sight of the dragon lord. It makes Henry wonder what happened while he was unconscious––what sort of conversation had to take place in order for Alex to accept and befriend someone with magic. Perhaps they had ale and got drunk and chatty, or maybe Alex was able to set his hatred of magic aside for the good of the kingdom. Either way, Henry is happy to see this change in attitude. He wishes, desperately, that he could kiss Alex right now so Alex would know how proud he is. He refrains, though, not wanting to upset their saving grace. 

“Your Highness,” the man says, extending a hand out to Henry. 

Henry takes it. “Please,” he insists, “call me Henry.” 

The man smiles and nods but his eyes, Henry thinks, are focused on Alex.

“I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to come on this journey with us,” Henry says. “We can, of course, offer you any sort of payment you might––”

“I don’t need money,” the dragon lord says, still smiling. “I’m just happy to have the chance to prove that magic is not always a force of evil.” 

Henry presses his lips into a thin line and allows himself to be lead to the two horses standing in a clearing just a few steps from the cave and stream. One horse he recognizes as Alex’s, but the other is unknown to him. It must be the dragon lord’s, he supposes. He wonders what happened to his own steed. 

He rides on Alex’s horse, his hands firmly around Alex’s waist, as they begin to make their way back to Camelot. Though they’re covered in silence as they ride, Henry feels at peace in this moment. Alex is here––within his grasp––and the weather is agreeable for once. So they ride in silence to meet whatever fate waits for them at Camelot’s gates, though Henry is fairly confident that things will turn out in the end. Whenever he and Alex work together, they’re unstoppable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	34. What Runs Through Your Veins

They have to stop for the night, just as they did on the way here. So, when the air cools and darkness begins to seep over the rolling hills, they decide to make camp in the forest. As they dismount their horses and start to get their equipment off of them, Alex and the dragon lord laugh about something together. The sight makes Henry feel left out, so he offers to be the one to get the firewood. Alex raises an eyebrow at the suggestion but doesn’t say anything––or, unfortunately, offer to accompany Henry into the forest––so Henry goes off on his own. Honestly, he’s never collected firewood before. He’s not sure what kind of sticks or twigs he should be looking for––Alex is always the one to do it. But Henry already told them he would get it, so that’s what he’s going to do. Even if his mind doesn’t shut up while he searches the forest floor in search of the wood.

It’s strange to see Alex so amicable with Oscar. Before this trip, Alex was very clearly dreading meeting this man. Alex hates magic––that much Henry is sure of––so he doesn’t understand why Alex and this man are suddenly so friendly. If Alex hates magic, that must mean that he can’t stand the mere sight of the dragon lord, let alone his actual company. And, yet, the two were _laughing_ together earlier. Henry bites his lip as he picks up a log, mulling over these thoughts and questions. And it’s not that he’s jealous of the dragon lord, but he’s envious that Alex seems to have such a connection with him. Though he and Alex share certain levels of intimacy, Henry constantly feels like Alex is keeping something from him. It’s like there’s some great secret that Henry is unaware of but, somehow, the dragon lord knows exactly what it is. And it’s driving him insane. Doesn’t Alex see that Henry will love him no matter what? Doesn’t Alex know that Henry wants to know everything about him? There’s no secret Alex could share that would make Henry any less in love with him. Has he not made that clear? 

He reaches down to grab a stick when he hears someone scream. He drops the wood and unsheathe his sword as he sprints through the forest and back to the clearing where Alex is. As he runs, he feels like his heart might beat out of his chest. The scream could have been Alex’s––it very well could mean that Alex is hurt or dead or in trouble. Henry runs as fast as his legs will carry him, ignoring the aches in his body that very clearly don’t want him running like this so soon after he was injured. He pushes past it, though, because he _needs_ to get to Alex. He needs to find him and make sure he’s okay. Maybe he needs Henry’s protection––maybe this is where Henry can show Alex how much he truly cares for him. 

When he gets to the clearing, there are three dead bodies on the ground. With one look at them, Henry recognizes the crest they wear upon their clothing––the crest of Cornyn. But the crest doesn’t matter right now because, in the middle of it all, Alex is there on his knees with the dragon lord’s body in his lap. Henry sheaths his sword and rushes over to them, out of breath and panting. He gets on his knees, too, putting one hand on Alex’s shoulder to let him know that he’s here for him if he’s injured or needs help. 

Alex’s hands are covered in blood but it quickly becomes apparent that it’s not his own––it’s the blood of the dragon lord. Someone has stabbed his chest and he’s bleeding out and there’s no way that he’ll survive this. 

“ _No_ ,” Henry cries, watching as the man takes his last breath, his dulling eyes focused on Alex.

Alex is, much to Henry’s surprise, sobbing. He holds the dragon lord’s head against his chest, burying his head in the man’s hair. Henry squeezes his shoulder, unsure of what else to do. 

“I know,” Henry says. “Camelot is doomed.”

***

“I know,” Henry tells him, “Camelot is doomed.” 

It only makes Alex cry harder. He’s not crying for the fate of a kingdom––he’s crying for this gaping _hole_ in his heart. His father’s body is still and unmoving in his arms––dead. It all happened so quickly that Alex isn’t even sure he remembers all of it. He just remembers the guttural scream that escaped his lips when he saw the sword through his father’s chest––the sword that was intended for _him_.

His father told him that it would be okay. He promised. He called him mijo. He put his hand on Alex’s cheek and swiped the tears away and told him that, no matter what, he was proud of Alex and that he loved him. Alex just wishes that they had more _time_. Time for the two of them to get to know each other. Time for him to use magic to heal his father. But Henry came rushing into the clearing and all hopes of using magic were out the window. Now, all that Alex has to remember his father by is the small, hand-carved dragon that his father gave him when Henry went off to collect wood for the fire. 

Now Alex will never get the chance to tell him that he loves him, too. That he understands and forgives him for leaving. 

Henry’s hand is still on his shoulder. He’s trying to pull Alex up and away from the blood and the death, but Alex won’t move. He’s frozen. Rooted to the spot. His magic is burning him up from the inside––it feels stronger and more volatile than it ever has before. 

“He’s not worth your tears, Alex,” Henry is telling him, somewhere far away. “We’ll find another way to get rid of the dragon. I promise. But we need to go––Camelot is still in danger. We can’t waste any time.”

Alex is being pulled to his feet, he thinks, but he doesn’t really register it. Henry helps him onto his horse while Henry takes the other one––the one that belonged to his father only moments ago. 

And Alex is aching. And heartbroken. And his magic is pulsing off of him in sickening waves as he grieves for his father’s death. It’s the biggest emotion he’s ever felt. Bigger than love, he thinks. Maybe just different. 

It starts to rain as they journey through the dark. It’s a terrible idea, of course, but Henry seems hellbent on returning to Camelot as quickly as possible now that they don’t have the dragon lord. And that’s all Oscar was to Henry––a means to an end. Maybe it’s better that his father died now instead of later. Because, the more Alex thinks about it, the more certain he is that Philip would have killed him after he got the dragon to go away. The thought makes him sick, but he pushes it down. He’s being too emotional right now––Henry can’t know that Oscar is Alex’s father. He can’t. It would ruin everything. 

So Alex remains silent. He stares blankly ahead as Henry guides them through the forest. There are a million thoughts racing through his veins, a million emotions pulsing through his heart, but none of it matters right now. If he cries again or shows more emotion than he already has, Henry will know. And Alex will be dead, too.

Henry requests to tell Philip the news by himself. Alex is just happy to have the time to go back to Raf’s chambers and process everything that just happened––the meeting and subsequent loss of his father. And Raf sees his heartbreak the moment he steps through the door because he places a blanket around Alex’s shoulders and guides him to a chair, letting Alex just fall forward and cry into his chest. Raf’s arms come up and around him, holding him in place and letting him know that he’s here and that it’s okay for him to cry.

“Do you want to talk about it, kid?” 

Alex shakes his head at first but then nods only a moment later. He needs to say something––needs to talk to someone who might understand. “He’s dead,” he says. It’s garbled and teary and he isn’t really sure that he can say the words out loud yet in a normal way, but it’s enough for Raf to know what he means. 

He hugs Alex harder. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry that you didn’t get to know him.” 

Alex can’t help but laugh. “I _did_ , though,” he says, pulling away and wiping his tears off his cheeks. “And I thought…I thought he could come back here and that we could have some sort of…life together? I don’t know, Raf.” 

“He’s always gonna be a part of you, kid,” Raf tells him. 

Alex rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. In my heart, right?” 

Raf shakes his head. “No. It’s––it’s a dragon lord thing. It’s passed down from father to son.” 

Alex blinks. “Wait, so…” 

Raf nods, smiling a bit. “Now his magic runs through your veins. You’re the last dragon lord, Alex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF.
> 
> sorry this is short. and also a cliffhanger. 
> 
> as always, I'm @bibliothesoph on Tumblr!


	35. Let's Add Another Lie to the List, Shall We?

Though, of course, Philip is beyond upset to hear that their one shot at vanquishing the dragon is out the window, he allows Henry to try to defeat the beast himself. He decides to ride out after sunset and face the dragon one on one, hoping to either talk sense into the creature or to kill it completely. Of course, to spare the lives of his knights, he insists on riding alone. Bea and Pez are, decidedly, not pleased with this decision. As he readies himself in his chambers, the two of them try to convince him that this is a terrible idea. 

“The worst you’ve had yet, mate,” Pez says. 

Henry rolls his eyes, rummaging through his wardrobe to find his armor. “What other plan have we got, Pez? None. This is our last shot.”

Bea and Pez exchange a nervous glance. They’re seated on the fine linens of his bed while he attempts to get everything in order for what is sure to be his last battle. Without the dragon lord, the chances of succeeding are extremely slim. The only possible advantage he has is that the dragon might be worn out or exhausted from the previous days of terror, but even that is not much to hold onto. Regardless––he’s made a promise to do this. Alone. 

“Henry, you don’t have to prove yourself,” Bea tells him. “Not even a great fighter like yourself can defeat a dragon.” 

“Men have done it,” Henry argues, thinking back to the stories of heroism he’s heard over the years. He points at Pez. “ _You’ve_ done it!” 

Pez huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but it was a small dragon. Not the biggest one in the land! Not this powerful!” 

Henry puts his chest plate on, having no idea if he’s doing it correctly. The damn thing is so hard to fasten without any help. Pez takes mercy on him and hops off the bed to help him with the fastening. Pez’s anger with Henry’s choice is apparent in the aggressive way he tightens the chest plate around him. 

“If you want to go off and try to fight a dragon,” Pez huffs, helping Henry into the rest of his armor, “be my guest. But you’re not going alone.” 

Henry opens his mouth to protest when the door opens so abruptly that he fears the thing might fall off of its hinges completely. Standing in the doorway is Alex with his hands on his hips and narrow eyes. A man on a mission. He strides across the room to where the three of them are sitting and standing, eyeing them all suspiciously.

“I agree,” he says, gesturing to Pez. “You’re not going alone.” 

Pez sighs in relief and smiles, clapping Alex on the back. “Tha––”

“ _I’m_ going with you.” 

The three of them are silent as they process Alex’s words. Bea pales and Pez looks more distraught than Henry’s ever seen him. Henry’s own face probably expresses his shock and horror at the mere idea of Alex coming with him on what is, honestly, an idiotic mission to begin with. This isn’t a quest––it’s a death sentence. It’s all well and good for Henry to play the hero for the sake of his kingdom, but he won’t allow Alex to put his own life on the line like this. And, as much as he loves Alex, he knows that Alex isn’t exactly talented with a sword. He’s strong and capable, of course, but he’s no knight. He once nearly cut his entire hand off trying to pick up a sword by the wrong end. If Henry brings Alex with him, they’re doomed to fail. How is he supposed to tell him that, though? There’s no way to say all of this without hurting Alex’s feelings. 

“Alex, darling, you’re not exactly…qualified,” Pez points out.

Henry and Bea nod in agreement. 

Alex shakes his head. “I’m his servant,” he says, sounding a bit angrier than he should, “and that means that I stay by his side.” 

He looks to Henry for a moment and, within those brown eyes, Henry can tell exactly what he means. It’s not just because Alex is his servant that makes him feel obligated to do this––it’s because they’re together. It’s because Alex can’t stomach the thought of Henry going out there all by himself and dying alone in a field because of a murderous dragon. And, even though Henry would do the exact same thing, he refuses to let Alex put his life on the line like this. If someone has to die to defeat this dragon, it should be Henry, not Alex. Henry is the Prince––it’s baked right into the job description. It will be his chance to prove himself a decent leader––one who put the lives of his people before his own. But, based on the way Alex is glaring at him, it doesn’t seem like he’ll back down. 

“Henry,” Bea begs, “just don’t go. You don’t have to play hero.” 

“I’m not _playing_ ,” he insists. “This is what I have to do. It’s just…how it should be.” 

“It’s what we _both_ have to do,” Alex corrects, moving to stand next to him. “Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll make sure he lives through it.”

Bea smiles, a bit teary-eyed, and pulls them both in for a hug. “Stay safe,” she begs. “Come home to me.” 

It is, admittedly, less terrifying with Alex by his side. As they ride out to a clearing, hopeful that the dragon will come meet them here, Henry feels more at ease than he thought he would. Alex hasn’t let him die yet, despite the numerous attempts on his life, so he feels a ray of hope that they might, somehow, live through this. As they ride, Henry takes his hand, holding it tightly in his own. He gives it a squeeze but doesn’t say anything. Alex squeezes back. 

When they dismount, Henry keeps his sword sheathed. He’d like, if at all possible, to talk to the dragon before fighting it. If they can work this out, man to beast, and no blood has to be spilled, that’s fantastic. The last thing he wants is another causality, even if that causality is a dragon. While he may not understand or like magic, he respects its creatures. And dragons are, historically, the most magical creatures out there. Plus, his brother killed all the rest, so the least he can do is spare this one’s life if at all possible. 

Night is falling, covering the land in dark blue. 

“It’ll be fine,” Alex assures him, a hand on his shoulder.

Henry nods and takes a deep breath, trying to believe it. “I know,” he lies. “But, just in case…” he closes his eyes for a moment before turning to face Alex head-on, cupping his jaw with his hands. “I l––”

A gust of wind startles them both, making them look to the sky to find the source. In the air, a great, winged beast descends into the clearing, its mighty wings flapping to bring it down safely. Henry stares at it for a moment, awed. But the dragon doesn’t seem to be here to talk. Instead, it roars and slashes its tail around but, thankfully, Henry dodges it just in time. He runs to his horse and grabs the spear he stashed by its side and takes it in his hands, trembling as he looks up at the great beast. Alex’s eyes are on him––locked and focused and terrified. He takes a deep breath and, using all his strength, stabs the dragon’s side. The dragon roars in pain, lifting up onto its hind legs as it cries out. Its claws swing and hit Henry hard in the chest, knocking him down.

Everything goes dark.

*** 

“Stop it!” Alex yells, seeing Henry hit the ground at a rough angle. “Just…stop!”

The dragon stills, its golden eyes glaring at him. 

He’s on the ground, having narrowly dodged the swinging of the dragon’s tail, and he thinks it might just be easier if he stays still and accepts his fate. He’s only one man––small and worthless in comparison to everything else in the world. He’s terrified of himself and everything around him––terrified of telling Henry the truth, terrified of what his family might think of him, and terrified that he won’t live up to his father’s name. So he thinks he should stay here and let the dragon burn him to a crisp. Let the dragon put him out of his misery. 

_“You’re the last dragonlord now,”_ he hears in his mind. It’s his father’s voice––the one used to hear come from the dragon’s mouth.

The voice compels him to his feet, though his legs are shaking.

_“You alone carry this ancient gift,”_ his father’s voice tells him. _“Somewhere deep inside of yourself, you must find the voice that you and the dragon share.”_

He closes his eyes, trying to search himself for some kind of answer. When he closes his eyes, he sees Henry’s smile. His laugh. Those blue eyes that pierce his every soul.

Alex has never understood magic. He understands that it lies at the very center of the world and ties everything together, but he’s never understood what it truly means. But when he thinks about magic, he sees _Henry_. He sees his father, his mother. June and Nora. Raf. He sees everyone important in his life happy and smiling. When he closes his eyes and thinks about magic, the bonds that hold the world together, he thinks about love. Love––the purest, most powerful magic in the world. 

He opens his eyes and, in a language he doesn’t recognize, he speaks to the dragon. It’s a guttural language––something that rises up from his stomach and growls through him as it leaves his body. The dragon bows its head in understanding of his words. It bows to the last dragonlord. 

“Leave!” Alex cries. “And don’t come back.” 

“You’re the last dragon lord,” the dragon says, awed.

Alex nods and wipes away the tears on his face. “Yeah. That means you have to listen to me when I tell you to go and never come back to Camelot. To never hurt anyone again.” 

The dragon bows its head again. “We are united,” it tells him. “And if you ever call for me, I will come.”

Alex nods. “Now _go_.” 

The dragon shoots him one last look before it spreads its wings and flies off into the night. 

Alex lets out a breath, allowing himself a moment to try to process what just happened before he rushes to Henry’s side to make sure he’s okay. As soon as he kneels down, Henry gasps and sits up, looking around in shock. 

“Wha––What happened?” he asks, blue eyes wide. 

Alex laughs and kisses his forehead. “You did it,” he lies, smiling. “You killed it.”

Henry smiles and buries his head in Alex’s shirt as he laughs. Alex wraps his arms around him in return, planting a kiss into his soft hair. 

There will come a time when Alex will have to tell about everything he’s been keeping a secret for so long, but, not quite yet. Right now, he just wants to enjoy Henry’s company and touch while he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	36. The Cutest Knight in All the Land

“Good morning,” Alex singsongs, throwing the curtains open. 

Henry automatically hisses and pulls the covers up over his head, trying to block out the light. “Time’s it?” he grumbles, still trying to stay in the warmth of sleep for as long as possible. He was up terribly late last night because a certain _someone_ may or may not have ravished him completely and repeatedly until the sun came up. And then, of course, he couldn’t actually fall asleep because Alex went back to his own chambers and, without Alex, the bed seemed too big and cold for his liking. How is a prince to sleep without something to cuddle?

“Late,” Alex replies. 

There’s a dip in the bed, meaning that Alex is going to kiss Henry awake. Henry doesn’t mind at all. 

There are fingers in his hair––soft and gentle. Henry sighs in content, leaning into the feeling, just to have the covers yanked cruelly off of him.

“You didn’t put clothes on to go to bed?” Alex asks, trailing his fingers down Henry’s bare sides. 

Henry opens his eyes and rolls over to face him with his face smushed against the pillow. “No need.”

Alex chuckles and kisses his cheek. “You really need to get up, H.” 

Henry frowns and laces their fingers together. “What for? I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Alex smiles that soft, private smile that Henry only gets to see here in the privacy of his bedchambers. The smile makes Henry lean up and kiss it softly, just to let Alex know how much he adores it. 

“Don’t distract me,” Alex laughs, pulling away but keeping one hand on Henry’s jaw. “If you don’t get up, you’ll only get _one_ present from me.” 

Henry’s eyes widen for a moment as he realizes what Alex means. Then he groans and flops back onto the bed. “Christ, is that today?” 

“Yup. Now get dressed. Even on your birthday, you still have things to do.”

He pats Henry’s ass before he hops off the bed and goes over to the wardrobe to fetch something for Henry to wear. Henry watches him intently, so full of love for him that he can’t even stand it.   
“Quit staring,” Alex says, not even turning around. “You have to get up and dressed.” 

Henry sits up a bit and calls it a day. “But I don’t _want_ to. What do I even have on for the day?” 

“Breakfast with Philip,” Alex replies, turning around and setting the clothes down on the table. “Then training. Then you get my second gift, and then you have a big, fancy feast.” 

Henry frowns again. “When am I getting the first gift, then?” 

“Right after you get dressed. So, you do that and I’ll go get it. Sound good?” 

Henry nods, still upset that he has to attend Royal Duties on his blasted birthday. Shouldn’t he be allowed one day off? He sighs and stands up, stretching his back as he walks to the pile of clothing. He throws it on, silently grumbling to himself, and anxiously awaits Alex’s return. While he waits, he thinks about what sort of gift could have gotten him. Even though it will likely be a great deal cheaper than any of the other silly trinkets he’ll receive tonight, he knows that it will be the best gift of the day. Alex is so thoughtful and loving, so Henry expects something amazing and sweet from him. He hopes Alex made it himself––it will be the first homemade gift he’s ever received. 

The door opens and he looks up, figuring he’ll see Alex standing there, but there’s no one there. He raises an eyebrow but goes to close it which is when he feels something scratching his legs. Curious, he looks down and sees a small puppy trying to climb up his body. He gasps and bends down to rub behind its ears. 

“Oh, hello,” he smiles, laughing when the dog licks his face. “Aren’t you a handsome fellow? Where did you come from?” 

“From me,” Alex says, suddenly in the doorway. “I mean, I bought him. He’s the first gift for you.” 

Henry feels like he might cry. Carefully, he scoops the tiny dog into his arms and then goes over to Alex, wrapping his free hand around his back. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I love…” he bites his lip, “er, _him_. I love the _dog_. Thank you.” 

Alex kisses his forehead and pulls back, grinning. “You kept complaining about not having anyone to cuddle,” he says, a blush painting his cheeks. “And, since I can’t be here all the time, I thought he would be a good alternative.”

Henry laughs and looks at the small dog in his arms that is now enthusiastically licking Henry’s wrist. “Could I…bring him to breakfast?” 

Alex rolls his eyes lovingly. “It’s _your_ dog, H. And you’re the Prince. I don’t think anyone’s going to stop you.”

So, Henry brings the dog down to breakfast. When he gets there, Philip looks less than pleased and Bea looks thrilled. She pushes her chair away from the table and goes to pet the dog and, of course, to wish Henry a happy birthday. Through it all, Philip just stares at them with narrow eyes. 

“Where did you get… _that_?” he asks, gesturing to the dog. 

Henry, keeping the dog in his lap, takes a seat at the table. “Alex got him for me. Isn’t he handsome?” 

Bea snorts.

“The dog, I mean,” Henry adds, scratching the dog behind his ears. 

Philip seems unimpressed. “It seems like an inappropriate gift.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” Bea chimes in, popping a grape in her mouth. “You know he’s always wanted one.” 

Philip’s entire face contorts. “What? Since when?”

It’s moments like these where Henry so painfully remembers that Philip knows nothing about him. It’s been that way since they were children, he thinks. There might have been a few good years in the beginning, but he doesn’t recall a single time where his brother treated him like an equal. Since the day Philip was born, he acted like he was already King. Henry was just another problem he had to solve––a knight he had to whip into shape. And, honestly, it doesn’t really _bother_ Henry most of the time. If he’s being honest, he’s also uninterested in knowing anything about Philip. But, on today of all days, he wishes that Philip could at least attempt to have some sort of civil conversation with him. Just for a day––just this once. 

“Since always,” Henry mumbles, rubbing the dog behind his ears. 

Philip shrugs and takes a sip of his tea, seemingly uninterested in this conversation. 

The entire breakfast is riddled with awkwardness. Whenever Bea tries to talk to Henry, Philip tries to put himself in the conversation. And it’s not like they can even talk a lot about things that Henry actually wants to talk about because his true passions, like Alex, are unbeknownst to Philip. Together, he and Bea manage it, though. And then he’s set free and allowed to go back up to his chambers to prepare for training. Though the training bit sounds dull, at least Pez will be there to make it a bit more entertaining. 

When he gets back to his chambers, Alex is standing by Henry’s armor, clearly ready to help him into it. Henry sets the dog on the ground and kisses Alex softly. 

“Hey,” Alex says, smiling as they pull away. 

Henry rests his forehead against Alex’s. “Do you think I could skip training?” 

Alex chuckles and threads his fingers through Henry’s hair. “Not a chance. But I promise to take care of your dog while you’re off being a hero or whatever.”

Henry rolls his eyes and looks down at the puppy. “Can’t he come to training? He’s a knight.” 

“Is he?” 

Henry scoops the dog up again and holds him close to his chest. “He’s the bravest knight in all the land, I’ll have you know,” Henry proclaims. “Sir David the Cute.”

Alex nudges his shoulder as he laughs. 

Just like that, in this small moment, Henry falls in love with him all over again. There’s that twinkle in his eye as he laughs, and the enamor of his upturned lips. Alex is _enchanting_. If Henry didn’t know any better, he’d think he’d been put under some sort of love spell. It doesn’t seem possible for someone like him to love someone else this deeply––this completely. But then Alex kisses his cheek and Henry feels love pump in his heart. It fills him with the greatest warmth he could have dreamed of. He’s drunk on Alex––that much is certain.

“I can hold onto him,” Alex promises. “I’ll give him lots of cuddles while you’re gone.”

Henry groans, jealous of the dog. “I wish I didn’t have to go to this silly training.” 

Alex takes Henry’s jaw in his hands. “Sweetheart,” he sighs, “I know. But you’re the Prince and this is what you gotta do. It’s only for a few hours, anyway. When you get back, I’ll give you your second present.” 

Henry grins and kisses the tip of Alex’s nose. “Fine,” he concedes. “It had better be a good gift.” 

Training runs smoothly, all things considered. Pez is, as always, the highlight of the afternoon. Even though Henry can hardly sit still––too excited to see whatever Alex has in store for him––he manages to get some good work done. Pez is his sparring partner for the afternoon, and the two of them inevitably end up collapsing into a fit of laughter. After that, Henry decides to call it a day and retire to his chambers for the brief time he has free before the feast. Eager to see what Alex has planned, he takes the stairs two at a time.

It’s his birthday and gets to spend a few hours with the boy he’s madly in love with. 

Nothing can ruin his day––not even Philip.


	37. Love is the Purest Form of Magic

While Henry is at his training, Alex talks through the plans for the feast with Bea. They sit in her room and go over tiny detail of the event just to make sure it runs smoothly. There will be an hour of drinks and small dishes before everyone takes their seat for dinner––Henry’s favorite. While they dine, there will be some sort of jester in front of them to entertain them and to ensure that no one talks to Henry after the designated conversation hour. The jester comes recommended from Philip, but Alex honestly doesn’t care about the quality of the show as long as it helps Henry get through a meal without wanting to disappear. After that, they’ll serve Henry’s favorite cake, Bea and Pez will make toasts, and the event will be over. Short and to the point––just like Henry likes these sorts of things. 

So, as soon as Henry comes back from his training, Alex has the room ready for his second gift of the day. Since it’s Henry’s birthday, he’s gone all out. Rose petals on the bed, candles everywhere, curtains drawn, wine on the table and already poured into two of the fanciest goblets he could find in the castle kitchens. David is with Bea for the time being since Alex doesn’t want any distractions or company for the next hour or two where he plans to ravish Henry completely. So, when Henry walks through the door, Alex is ready. He’s got on his fanciest clothes––borrowed from Raf––and he’s got the goblets in hand so he can give one to Henry as soon as he comes in. 

“Christ,” Henry gasps, his eyes wide as they take in the space. “What’s all of this, love?”

Alex grins and hands him a goblet, slightly annoyed with himself for how aroused the sight of Henry all sweaty in his armor is to him. He swallows nervously and gestures for Henry to sit with him, even though he thinks it might be extremely uncomfortable with the armor. Henry sits, though, and takes a sip of the wine.

“It’s your birthday,” Alex reminds him, “and I thought I could give you a special gift.”

Henry’s cheeks turn pink. “Ah, but is it a gift for me if we both enjoy it?” 

Alex shrugs. “I guess I could return I––”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Henry demands.

They both laugh for a moment and, just like that, Alex remembers how fucking in love he is with this person. This guy sitting next to him with flushed cheeks as he takes another sip of his wine––the guy still dressed in full armor after training. The guy who is the bravest, most selfless man that Alex has ever met in his entire life. Alex wants to spend the rest of his life––however long or short––with this man. There’s no one else he has a future with––Henry’s ruined every other human for him. 

“Why are you staring at me?” Henry inquires, eyebrow raised.

Alex flushes and fidgets in his seat. “I…you’re just really beautiful.” 

Henry bites his lip and smiles a strange, lopsided smile. “Beautiful? Really? I’m all sweaty.” 

“I don’t care,” Alex says, moving closer and setting his goblet down on the table.

In an instant, his lips are on Henry’s. There’s the gentle thud of the goblet being set down before Henry’s arms come up and around to embrace Alex and pull him into his lap. Alex smiles and deepens the kiss, his fingers already fumbling with the fastenings on Henry’s chest plate. Henry’s hands find the swell of his ass and squeeze, making Alex moan. Henry smiles upon hearing the sound and squeezes harder. It becomes quickly apparent that this uncomfortable chair is not conducive to what Alex has in mind for them right now. So, just to move things along, he gets up and tugs Henry up with him. They move across the room and to the bed where Alex decides that it’s probably best to get Henry out of all of this heavy armor before they get any further.

Henry is panting while Alex takes off his armor––one piece at a time. He’s not naked under it, of course, but seeing him look so small (comparatively) makes Alex’s heart thump in his chest. This right here––this man with the messy hair and the flushed cheeks and no armor on at all––is someone only Alex gets to meet. There’s no circlet or crown atop his head and no sword by his side. He’s just… _Henry_. Not a prince right now; just himself. Alex doesn’t understand how he, of all people, is the one Henry trusts to see him like this. To get to know him and hold him in his arms. He’s the luckiest man in the kingdom, he thinks.

As soon as Henry is free from the confines of his armor, Alex gets to work on undressing him completely. There’s not enough time for him to ravish him as completely as he’d like, so he’ll have to skip a few steps. He forgot to account for the fact that Henry will definitely need a bath after this. 

But even the lack of time doesn’t stop Alex from kissing new inch of revealed skin––from leaving his marks wherever the people of Camelot won’t see them. A hickey on Henry’s ribs, another on his chest, and a few on his thighs. By the time Alex is done marking him, Henry is writhing and leaking above him, impatient and fully aware that they don’t have much time left before he has to start getting ready for the feast that he doesn’t even want to go to in the first place.

Just as Alex puts his hand on Henry’s hard, leaking cock, Henry puts his own hand on top of his. Surprised, Alex looks up into those blue eyes that he loves so much and, through the glimmer of arousal, he sees a question there. 

“Can I ask you for something?” Henry asks, his voice a low whisper. 

It sends a shiver down Alex’s spine. “Anything.”

Henry takes a deep breath and his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he thinks of how to ask the question. Alex isn’t sure what to expect. Will Henry ask to know if Alex has magic? Will he ask about the dragon? There are a million thoughts racing through Alex’s mind as he waits for Henry to summon up the courage and just _ask_.

“I want you inside of me,” Henry admits.

Alex’s cheeks are on fire. “Are you sure?”  
Henry nods, his blond hair splayed out on the regal pillows of his monstrous, atrocious bed. “Positive.” 

Alex grins and kisses him soundly, eager to experience this level of closeness with him. _This_ , he thinks, is the most vulnerable they can be together. It’s certainly the most vulnerable Alex can be––he’s read about what this sort of thing does to a sorcerer. Love is its own type of magic and his love for Henry might be the strongest power he’s ever been capable of wielding. Being with him like this––together in every sense––will mark them both with protective magic. It will strengthen their bond and increase Alex’s power because there will be love, anchored to Henry, that binds him to the earth. It wasn’t like this the other times he’s done this because he’s never been in _love_ before––not like this. The thought of having so much power terrifies him, but he knows that nothing bad can come of it if it’s magic tied to Henry. Because Henry is everything good in the world, he thinks. The lonely, good-hearted Prince with a stupid smile and blond hair. He’s soft kisses and gentle touches and the most loving person Alex has ever met. So, really, he’s not scared at all. Not with Henry.

While he slips his first finger inside, he mumbles a spell under his breath while Henry moans. It’s a spell to make Henry more comfortable––to make sure this feels good for him, too.

“Christ,” Henry groans.

Alex smiles and slips another finger inside of him. As soon as he does, he feels Henry adjust and relax around him and, before he knows it, Henry is begging him to stop “bloody teasing” him and just “do it already.” And who is Alex to turn down a command from his prince?

When he pushes inside of Henry, he feels the breath get knocked out of him. It’s the magic of it all, he thinks. He feels it here inside of Henry and he feels the moment it ties them together.

He doesn’t even realize he’s frozen until Henry is planting soft kisses on his jaw. “You can move,” Henry tells him, unfeeling of the magic surrounding the two of them right now.

Alex nods and kisses him before he starts to move.

It doesn’t take either of them long to come––Henry because Alex is stroking him in time to his thrusts and Alex because the feeling of their love around them is too fucking much.

They come with each other’s names on their lips––their hearts beating as one now. In the aftermath, Alex puts his head on Henry’s chest and listens to the gentle thrum of his heartbeat as he comes down. He can’t help but smile to himself at the feeling pulsing through him right now––love in its purest form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliosoph on tumblr


	38. Jesters Aren't All That Funny When They're Trying to Kill You

The feast is, as Henry expected, terrible. He doesn’t want to be here and forced to wear these itchy, uncomfortable robes, and he doesn’t want to have to interact with a bunch of people he doesn’t even know. Even with Alex somewhere across the room––probably talking to Nora or June or Raf––he still feels lonely and miserable here. For him, feasts like this just remind him of all of the parts he hates about being the Prince. There are nobles and Kings and Queens from other lands who all extend hands and wish him a happy birthday, even though he can’t recall meeting any of them personally in his entire life. Some of these people knew his father, he supposes, and point out the similarities between them. Ten minutes in, he just wants to go upstairs and curl up in his bed with Alex by his side to run gentle fingers through his hair and tell him that everything will be okay, even if neither of them really believe it.

Between the awkward shuffle and greetings with the noblemen Henry is forced to talk to, he finds Alex by his side.

“Your Highness,” Alex says, bowing his head a bit. 

Henry wants to melt into his arms. Instead, he straightens his posture and tries to look bored.

“How are you enjoying the party?” 

He sighs. “I’d enjoy it much more if it wasn’t happening,” Henry admits in a whisper, his head barely cocked in Alex’s direction as to not draw attention to themselves.

“Right. Well, once you get through this, we’ve got entertainment for dinner so you don’t have to talk to anyone.” 

Henry perks up slightly with this news. He turns to face Alex, confused. “Really?”

Alex nods and gestures to a man dressed in bright colors on the other side of the room. The man is talking to Philip––who feels well enough to come to the party despite the fact that he’s still recovering from his injuries––and they’re sharing a laugh in the corner of the room. Though it’s hard to place the man, Henry recognizes that he’s seen him before.

“He’s one of Philip’s friends,” he tells Alex. “They went to school together.” 

Alex raises an eyebrow. “Philip went to school with…a jester?”

“His family is trained in all sorts of strange things,” Henry recalls. “He’s not so much as jester as he is a master of illusion. Where he comes from, such practices are praised.” 

Alex hums, giving the man another look over. “Then I guess we’re in for a show, huh?”

Henry smiles in agreement and watches as Alex wanders back over to Rafael and the people he’s talking to on the other side of the room. He takes another sip of his wine, praying for this all to be over as soon as possible.

The staff serves dinner while they watch the jester begin his act. As promised, the entertainment invites no conversation so, thankfully, Henry has time to just eat and watch the show. The jester is quite talented, he has to admit. There are tricks with fire and juggling and, at one point, a mass of butterflies that appear from his sleeve. The guests applaud for his marvels and feats, never having seen someone as talented as him before. Though his profession may seem strange and undignified in this kingdom, Henry knows the man to be something of a genius. When they were younger and Philip would return from school to tell them all of his adventures and studies, he always mentioned the man with a certain level of awe tangible in his voice. It’s clear that the man impresses Philip which, as Henry knows all too well, is not something easily accomplished.

“For my last trick,” the jester announces, “I need a volunteer.” 

The guests murmur quietly in excitement as his eyes scan them to find a worthy volunteer for this last illusion or feat of bravery. While he looks out at the crowd, his assistant rolls a giant wheel into the center of the room––a brightly colored thing with four straps built onto it. Henry swallows nervously, slightly worried that this next trick may not end well.

He meets the jester’s eyes and, much to his surprise, the jester grins. “Who better than the man of the hour to accompany me? Prince Henry, will you be my volunteer?”

Henry starts to shake his head but Philip’s hand comes up onto his shoulder and squeezes him in a way that lets him know that he should, under no circumstances, let a single word leave his mouth.

“He’d be delighted, of course,” Philip says.

Henry sighs and gets out of his chair, really not having a say in the matter. As he walks to the center of the room, he feels Alex’s eyes on him. Subtly, he meets Alex’s gaze and tries to have an expression that calms him––something that tells him that this is just a trick and that he’ll be fine. But Alex’s face is pale and his fists are clenched by his sides, and Henry knows that nothing can reach Alex when he’s this stressed about something. 

The assistant comes and straps Henry to the massive wheel, which only makes him panic a bit. If something goes wrong, there’s no escape. He’s a few inches of the ground, at least, and his wrists and ankles are tied to this infernal wheel.

“May I introduce,” the jester says, gesturing to the wheel, “the Wheel of Chance!” 

Henry feels himself pale. He wonders how Philip is allowing this.

The assistant comes back over with an apple and puts it in Henry’s mouth which does nothing to calm his nerves. He wants to ask if he can get off or if they can just find another volunteer, but then the assistant spins the wheel and Henry starts going around and around as he watches, from multiple angles, the jester pull out three knives. The first knife is thrown and lands by Henry’s ear––he feels the cool wind rush by as the blade whooshes past him and lodges itself into the wooden wheel behind him. The crowd gasps. The jester throws the second knife which ends up right by Henry’s throat and the crowd gasps again––more entertained than terrified. Henry’s pulse is thrumming in his eardrums. He watches, as if in slow motion, as the third and final knife is thrown. It’s coming straight towards his face so he closes his eyes and braces for impact. But he never feels a thing. 

He opens his eyes and finds the crowd roaring around him. He looks down and finds the knife perfectly lodged in the center of the apple in his mouth. He sighs in relief and watches as the assistant helps him off of the wheel and back onto solid ground. Pleased that he survived, he waves to the crowd and takes a satisfying bite of the apple, happy when they cheer once more.

When he returns to his seat, still eating the apple as some sort of prize, Bea hugs him. He smiles at her and holds up the apple which makes her laugh. For the first time this evening, he’s starting to think that this feast might not be all that bad.

By the end of the event, Henry is starting to feel strange. He feels like he had too much wine, even though he was careful not to drink too much. Alex helps him upstairs, obviously entertained by his drunken ramblings, slurred, words, and swaying. He thinks Alex is happy about it because, when Henry sways on his feet, Alex is allowed to sneak an arm around his waist to keep him upright without it being weird. Though Henry is acting, admittedly, wasted, his mind still feels fairly sharp. It’s like his mind and body are disconnected right now, but he isn’t quite sure why.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Alex suggests as he opens the door to Henry’s chambers. 

Henry groans but allows Alex to sit him down on the bed and prepare him for sleep. “I wanna kiss you,” Henry confesses, his cheeks flushed. 

Alex chuckles from the ground where he’s removing Henry’s shoes. “Another time. Maybe when you’re not wasted?”

Henry rolls his eyes and lifts his arms up so Alex can remove his shirt. “I’m not _drunk_ ,” he protests.

“Whatever you say, Your Highness.”

Suddenly, Henry is on his feet. He doesn’t quite remember why for a moment. “Philip,” he says, remembering. Alex raises an eyebrow at him but Henry waves him off. “I need to thank him for the jester man. That was nice of him.” 

“Sure,” Alex says, shrugging. He’s still smiling, though, but he’s smiling like Henry is some kind of idiot.

Henry shakes his head. “I’m gonna go thank him,” he proclaims, walking towards the door. 

“Would you like to put a shirt on, maybe?” Alex asks, chuckling.

Henry nods. “Yes. Shirt.”

Alex hands him his sleep shirt and Henry throws it on, not caring that he’s put it on backward. “Be back,” Henry says, his hand on the door handle. “See you soon. Thank you for coming.”

Confident in his ability to walk, Henry starts to stumble down the hall to Philip’s chambers. It might we weird, he thinks, but Philip needs to know that Henry is grateful for him and for hiring the jester. It was, decidedly, more fun than he expected it to be. So he wanders down long corridors and past guards until he finds Philip’s chambers. The guards don’t even give him a second look––they just let him go right up to the door. He knocks, swaying a bit as he waits for Philip to answer. 

Philip answers the door and looks at Henry like he’s never seen him before. “Henry?” he asks, eyes wide and confused. 

Henry steps into the room, not even allowing Philip to allow him to enter. Immediately, Henry makes a beeline for the two chairs by the window, sitting in one and waiting for Philip to sit in the other. There are weird things here––swords lined up by the window and a vase of dying flowers between the chairs. Philip sits down cautiously like maybe he thinks this is some sort elaborate prank.

“We used to play in here,” Henry says, his words still slurred. He gestures to the room around him. “Remember?” 

Philip coughs. “Er, yes, I suppose.”

Henry sighs and smiles, leaning back in the chair and melting into the cushion. “We used to have fun together. Fun all the time. Then you went off to school and became a knob.”

Philip’s face turns red. “I beg your––”

“Shhh,” Henry coos, his eyes closing. “’S not your fault you’re a knob.”

Philip is suddenly on his feet. “I’m going to fetch you some water,” Philip says. “You just…stay here.” 

Henry nods and curls up on the chair, watching as Philip goes to fetch water from the basin on the other side of the room. He sighs contently, happy to be talking to his brother like this––like they’re normal and can actually tolerate each other. 

But there’s movement behind him––he sees someone’s reflection on the fancy vase on the table. Henry reaches out and grabs one of the swords propped up by the window and just narrowly dodges the attack. 

“Guards!” he calls, standing up to fight. 

When he looks at the intruder, he sees that it’s the jester from his party. He doesn’t have time to ask any questions, though, because the man strikes again. Henry is too tired to think or react properly. His movements are slow and messy. One well-timed blow knocks the sword out of Henry’s hands and sends it clattering to the floor. He falls to the ground, thrown completely off balance. 

The man smiles and raises his sword, clearly aiming for Henry’s heart, when another blade stops him. Henry gasps and sees Philip, with a blade of his own, taking on the jester. 

“It will take more than a coward like you to kill my brother,” Philip hisses. The man grunts and the two fight back and forth while Henry lies on the floor. He’s useless now––too tired to be much of a help. 

Instead, he just watches as Philip takes on the jester. 

_But your injuries, Pip,_ he wants to say. _Don’t die protecting me. It’s not worth it._

Henry forgot that, before he became King, Philip was a valiant fighter. In a minute, he’s got the jester on his knees.

Henry is hardly lucid and can’t keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds, so he missed the entirety of the fight. The sound of clanking swords is still ringing in his ears. But he wills his eyes open long enough to see Philip finish the man off––to have a memory of this so he can thank Philip later.

That never comes. 

Instead, the jester reveals a hidden dagger from his belt and stabs Philip’s stomach with it just as Philip stabs him. The jester falls back, his head clunking against the ground, and Philip sways on his feet for a moment before he, too, falls over. 

“Pip!” Henry cries, suddenly a lot more lucid than he was only moments before. He crawls across the floor to Philip’s side, trying to figure out what he can do to stop the immense bleeding that’s already coming from his stomach.

Philip’s eyes are rolling back in his head. 

Henry isn’t sober enough to form coherent thoughts about this right now. “ _No,_ ” is all he can manage as he watches Philip’s face pale and his eyes close. “Guards!” he screams, tears falling down his cheeks. “Someone, please! We need help!”

“Henry,” Philip’s voice says from beneath him. He’s still alive then. Only just. “It’s my time.” 

“No,” Henry cries, holding him tighter. “Don’t––you can’t leave.”

“I got it wrong,” Philip croaks, his breathing shallow. “I’m not the Once and Future King.” 

Henry shakes his head. “Yes,” he sobs, “yes you are.” 

Weakly, Philip shakes his head. “It’s you,” he manages, his eyes closing again. “It’s always been….you.”

“I’m not ready to be King,” Henry says, more tears falling.

“You’ve…you’ve been ready for a while now, Henry.” 

“Guards!” Henry screams again, begging for someone to come. 

It can’t end like this. 

He’s not ready to be King––he’s not ready to rule Camelot by himself. He can’t lose Philip––he can’t do this without him. Even if they’ve had their disagreements, Henry knows that Philip could help him assume the role later. Philip could teach him how to be strong in a way that Henry doesn’t know how. He’s too weak to be King––his heart is too big and raw for the job. It was never supposed to be him on the throne––not yet. He can’t do this without his father or without Philip there to teach him how to lead and how to make sure that Camelot never falls. It’s too much for him––he can’t carry the kingdom on his shoulders.

“I know I haven’t been a good brother,” Philip whispers, the life clearly leaving him. Henry tries not to think about it––tries to focus on the quiet beat of his heart instead.

_He’s alive,_ he reminds himself. _He’s alive for now._

“I put my duty to Camelot first,” Philip continues. “You…deserved better.” 

Henry shakes his head again. “No,” he protests. “I can’t––”

“I know I’ve never said it,” Philip says, his eyes closing again. “But I’ve always…loved you.” 

Henry bites his lips. Squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t do this. He can’t talk about this––Philip needs to live. 

He opens his mouth to say something but only a mangled sob comes out. 

Philip’s body stills beneath him. 

No one’s coming to save him. 

He’s not breathing anymore. 

The King of Camelot is dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :( :( 
> 
> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on Tumblr!


	39. Your Royal Highness

Alex hasn’t really seen Henry in two weeks. Ever since Philip’s death, Henry has been rushed from meeting to meeting, rehearsal to rehearsal. There’s so much to do before he becomes King––Philip’s funeral, learning the role, and everything else that centuries of tradition have deemed necessary for such an event. While Alex is still his manservant, he doesn’t get much time with him these days. In the mornings, he wakes Henry up and serves him breakfast. Sometimes, Alex wants to kiss him, but Henry’s facial expressions and body language have made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want that to happen. So, instead of acting on his feelings, Alex is sitting back and trying to prove useful whenever he can. If Henry’s sword looks dull, he gets it polished. He’s having a seamstress work on the robes Henry will wear for his coronation and the ones he’ll wear for the funeral, too. It’s strange, he thinks, that the funeral is coming two weeks after Philip’s death. When he asked Bea about it, she rolled her eyes and muttered something about tradition before she excused herself to go elsewhere. 

“Are you nervous?” Alex asks, helping Henry get into his robes for the funeral. 

It’s good, at least, that the funeral is finally happening. There have been people with candles and flowers outside the castle for two fucking weeks at this point. They don’t even do anything––they just stand in the courtyard and look up at the mighty structure with teary eyes. It’s kind of terrifying. 

“Why should I be nervous?” Henry asks, his voice rough and tired.

Alex frowns and helps Henry with his cape. “Don’t you have to speak or something?” 

“It’s been written already,” Henry tells him. “All I have to do is say the words.” 

Alex nods and secures the cape around his shoulders. “Right. Well, I’ll be there. If you need me.”

Henry looks at him weirdly like he’s somehow offended. “Why would I need you?”

Alex opens his mouth. Closes it again. Furrows his brow. “I––Look, H, I know this is hard for you, but you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got me and Raf and Bea and Pez––”

Henry chuckles dryly. “Are any of you the soon-to-be Kings of Camelot?” 

Alex takes a step back, unsure of how to proceed here. “I––No?”

With another weird laugh, Henry nods and goes to look at himself in the mirror. He’s got his circlet on, which Alex thinks is interesting given the fact that he refuses to put it on until the very last second. What’s weirder, though, is that Alex doesn’t really _recognize_ the man in front of him. It looks like Henry, yes, but he’s acting like a completely different person. He’s acting, well, like Philip. 

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” Alex says, coming up behind him to rub his shoulders while he stares his reflection down. 

Henry shakes his head and steps out of Alex’s way. “I’m fine,” he insists. 

Alex doesn’t believe that for a single fucking second. “Henry, you don’t––”

Henry hangs his head and clenches his fist, obviously working through something that Alex couldn’t even begin to understand. “Just…leave me.” 

Alex feels like he’s been slapped. He stands his ground, rooting his feet on the floor. “I’m not going to leave you.” 

Tiredly, Henry’s eyes find his own. He looks miserable, but he won’t let Alex help make him feel better. “ _Please_ ,” he begs. “I just…I need to be alone right now. We can talk after the coronation tomorrow.”

Part of Alex wants to stay here and just talk now, but he knows Henry’s moods well enough to know when Henry actually needs to be alone. So, feeling rejected, he leaves. If space is what Henry wants, Alex will give it to him. It’s only temporary, after all, because Henry has promised a conversation after the coronation. Maybe Henry will have a better handle on himself by then. Maybe he just needs a bit more time to work through all of the complicated emotions that are likely blowing up his brain right now. It’s fine––Alex can wait. 

The coronation is in the courtyard. There’s a giant, marble statue thing of Philip that some Court Sculptor has made to keep within the confines of the castle, but the funeral is a way for the entire kingdom to say goodbye to their King. His body has been placed in a beautifully crafted coffin that’s placed on a pyre made of sticks and flowers in the center of the square. The Royal Family, he’s been told, will each hold a torch and light it together––as is the custom for such events. So, after Henry’s speech, the torches are brought out. Alex expects to see the two of them, one for Bea and one for Henry, but there are three. One is given to a brown-haired woman dressed in a black gown.

“Who’s that?” Alex whispers to Pez who, thankfully, is standing next to him for this strange event.

“That’s Princess Catherine,” Pez tells him.

The three Royal Family members walk towards the pyre and, together, set the thing ablaze. 

“Princess Catherine?” 

Pez looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Henry’s mother?”

After all the stories he had heard about Henry’s parents, mostly his father, Alex assumed that they were both dead. It made sense to him since Philip was, he thought, the oldest heir to the throne. The way Henry spoke about his family made Alex think that the three children were the only living––and non-evil––members still alive. Now, though, he sees that he was very clearly wrong. He wonders, distantly, why Henry didn’t tell him about his mother sooner. Alex would like to meet her, even if it’s just as Henry’s manservant. And why hasn’t she been around? Where was she for Henry’s birthday? He’s filled with questions, but he knows he won’t get any answers until after the coronation tomorrow. 

It’s fine.

He can wait.

He’s not even allowed to help with getting Henry ready for the coronation, apparently. He tried but was quickly shooed out of the room. They said only Royal Dressers could be in here to help so, currently, Alex is sitting on the floor in the hallway right outside of Henry’s room. It’s boring out here and he’s kind of losing his mind, but he’s holding out hope for the conversation that they’ll have after this stupid ceremony is done. He’s got a list of things he wants to say. 

1\. That he loves Henry.

2\. That Henry being King doesn’t change anything for him. 

3\. That he thinks Henry will make a great king. 

4\. That he’s always here if Henry needs him. 

5\. That he has magic. 

Number five is, obviously, the scariest one on the list. He’s not even scared to tell Henry that he loves him––he thinks Henry feels the same way. But the fifth thing on that list…he’s only slightly panicking about it. He’s gone back and forth on telling Henry, but he’s decided that he kind of has to right now. Henry is King now and, as King, it’s up to him to make the rules about magic. If he loves Alex, maybe he’ll understand that not all magic is bad since, clearly, Alex hasn’t used it to kill anyone. Anyone good, at least. The details are a bit fuzzy in his brain. Then again, Henry could very easily just demand that Alex be burned at the stake. It’s probably wishful thinking, but Alex really doesn’t think Henry will have him killed. Not if he loves him, too. 

Like the funeral, the coronation is long and boring. There’s some old dude that makes Henry promise to “stay true to the Crown” and a bunch of other bullshit and, once Henry repeats each promise back, the people rise their seats. Alex is lost and confused, but he stands, too. 

“Hail, King Henry!” they shout. “Long live the King!” 

After two rounds of them chanting this, Alex thinks he’s gotten the words down well enough to join in. While he chants, a grin across his face, he makes direct eye contact with Henry. 

_Hail, King Henry. Long live the King._

When Alex enters Henry’s chambers later that night and after all of the festivities are over, he’s expecting to find Henry in bed with David and getting some much deserved rest. However, what he walks into is nothing like what he pictured. What he walks into is Henry at his desk, his head in his hands, and a bunch of documents in front of him. He looks like he wants to bang his head into the table. David, off in the corner, looks pouty and neglected. Alex closes the door behind him and crosses the room, parking himself in front of the desk. 

“I feel like you should be resting,” he says, gently. “You’ve had a rough two weeks.” 

Henry looks up at him with red, puffy eyes. “ _Resting_?” 

Alex scoffs and takes a step closer to him. “Yeah, you know, that thing you do when you sit your ass in bed and cuddle with your really cute dog or your really cute boyfriend?” 

He’s expecting a smile for that one, but Henry’s face is blank and pained. “I’m the King now, Alex,” Henry says, standing. “Do you not understand that?” 

Alex furrows his brow. “Of course I understand that. I just think you’re overworking yourself, you know? I want to help if I can. Is there––”

“ _Alex_ ,” Henry says, looking up at him. “I have to do this alone.”

Alex folds his arms across his chest. “Why do you keep saying that?” 

Tugging at his hair, Henry crosses the room and stands by the massive fireplace, leaning against the mantle. “Because I’m the bloody _King_ now, Alex! It’s something that I alone can do.”

With a sigh, Alex follows him over. He keeps his distance, though, choosing to sit on the sofa. “H, I lo––”

“I can’t keep doing this,” Henry says, facing away from him. 

His breath hitches in his throat. His pulse is thrumming in his ears. It’s all he can hear right now––his heart pounding erratically in his chest. “ _What_?”

Henry still isn’t looking at him. “I can’t be with you anymore,” Henry says in a broken whisper. He clears his throat. “I’m the King now. I can’t afford to fool around with my servant.”

Alex feels like a knife has just been pushed right through his fucking heart. He doesn’t even know what to say right now––what could he possibly say to make this better? It’s obvious that Henry has made up his mind here and that, no matter how hard Alex presses him to change it, he won’t.

It becomes clear to him now that the past two weeks of silence haven’t just been because of everything Henry had to do. Henry was preparing him, he thinks, for this fucking moment. A lamb led to the slaughter.

“You…We’re over?”

Henry nods but he still won’t meet his eyes. “Yes.” 

Silence. 

At least Alex knows when he’s not fucking welcome.

“I’ll leave you to your papers, then,” he says, getting up and walking to the door. “Your Royal Highness.” 

With that, he leaves. 

He doesn’t dare turn around or cry. 

It’s clear that Henry isn’t worth his tears anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	40. The Sword in the Stone

To say that Henry hates being King would be the biggest understatement of the century. Henry _despises_ being King with every part of his mind and body. If he could just fuck right off and hand it off to someone else, he would. He would do it in a fucking heartbeat. If he didn’t have to be King, he could still be with Alex right now––probably snuggled up with him in that giant bed in his chambers or something. But, as it stands, Henry _is_ King and he and Alex are no longer together. It’s for the best, he knows, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t royally suck. He misses Alex so much––he feels incomplete without Alex here by his side. It would all be so much easier with Alex here, but he turned him away. And he hasn’t seen or heard from him since.

He has a new manservant now, too. It was Philip’s old one––one who knows how to dress a king, not just a prince. He’s been trying to convince Henry to move into the King’s Chambers, but Henry refuses every time it’s brought up. Not only is that the room where his parents once lived together, but it’s also the room where Philip was murdered and bled out in his arms. So, for the time being, he’s staying in the chambers he’s had all his life. It’s a bit difficult to be in here sometimes, since it holds so many memories with Alex, but he’s pushing through. It’s not like he spends a lot of time in here, anyway, since he’s being drowned in all of the Royal Duties and such he’s being forced to do. 

Three weeks after his coronation, a Council meeting is interrupted by a knight who has been patrolling the western border. He enters looking panicked and out of breath, so Henry grants him the floor to speak. It’s a relief, anyway, because Henry has absolutely no idea about what to do with grain storage in the citadel.

“My King,” the knight says, practically doubled over as he attempts to catch his breath. “An army approaches us from the west.” 

The entire Council looks at the knight with fear at his words. They’ve spent the past three weeks making small, minor changes to increase function and food in the kingdom, but they haven’t spent a single moment on the army. Since Camelot is one of the most powerful, formidable nations in the land, no one ever tries to fight them. Their army has remained unused in years and, quite frankly, Henry has never once imagined that he might have to think of some sort of battle strategy. 

“Whose army?” he asks, trying to make his voice sound calmer than he feels. He isn’t sure if it’s working.

“Mary,” the knight says, “the High Priestess.” 

The Council erupts into murmurs and whispers at the implication of this terrible news. 

“How long do we have before she crosses the border?” 

“A day,” the knight replies. “But, Sire, there are at least a thousand in her charge.”

Henry groans and tries to think of anything possibly reassuring to say, but he can’t find the words. Though he does not know much about Camelot’s army, he knows that they do not have the same numbers. Even if other people signed up to fight, they would surely lose the battle. It seems likely that Mary has sorcerers and other powerful, magical people on her side. So, even if they had the same numbers, his own army would stand no chance against her magic. 

“Evacuate the citadel,” Henry instructs. “Have everyone flee to the forest––that’s east and she’s not likely to check it.” 

The knight nods. “And what should I tell the army?”

“We’ll try to hold them off,” he replies. “If we can keep them out of the castle, we have a chance.” 

The knight nods again, bows, and runs off to relay Henry’s orders to the rest of the knights. 

As soon as he’s gone, the Council is shouting questions at him about his choice.

“Sire,” one of them says––Gregory, the strategist––“your brother would have met them at the border and cut them off there.” 

Henry grits his teeth. “My _brother_ ,” he snaps, “is dead. And, unlike him, I don’t see the need for pointless bloodshed.” 

Gregory mutters a lame apology which, of course, Henry pretends not to hear. This is a moment where he has to be the strong one––he has to prove himself to be a good king.

He dismisses the meeting and, promptly, calls a meeting with the knights to discuss their plans for trying to keep Mary and her army out of the castle. In the back of his mind, he knows that their plan won’t work. If Alex were still here, he would probably tell Henry as much. Coming from Alex, Henry wouldn’t mind hearing the unfortunate truth, he thinks. He’d probably kiss him just for speaking to him again.

But Alex isn’t here and Henry has a kingdom to protect.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door to his chambers, eager to have a moment of peace before he has to figure out his next move. As soon as he enters, David greets him with excited scratches and kisses. Smiling, Henry bends down to give him some attention before he just scoops him up and sits down with him.

“What am I going to do, David?” he sighs, giving David much deserved belly rubs. 

David licks his hand in reply. 

“I miss him,” Henry admits, voice soft and broken. David, ever the good listener, licks his hand again and says nothing. Henry smiles and kisses the top of his head, just to remind him how much Henry adores him.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. Groaning, Henry scoops David up in his arms and carries him against his chest as he goes to open the door. He figures it’s probably a knight or a Council Member with news of the impending attack. 

He’s wrong. 

“We have to leave.”  
Henry stares at him, eyes wide. It’s the last person he expected to see tonight or, quite possibly, ever again. 

“I won’t abandon the castle,” Henry says, sticking his chin out. 

The man rolls his eyes and pushes past Henry, moving inside his chambers without permission. Helpless to do much else, Henry closes the door and waits for him to say something else. It was probably foolish of him to think that this man would ever actually follow the rules. It’s never been his style. 

“I don’t even care that we’re not together anymore,” Alex says, already throwing Henry’s clothing in a bag. “I’m getting you out of here. The knights can protect the castle if you really want them to, but you’re coming with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Henry says, trying to be strong and unfeeling. It’s only partially working right now. 

“The rest of your family agrees with me,” Alex huffs. “They’re ready to go.” 

Alex removes something from his own bag and tosses it to Henry. Henry picks up and sees what looks like Alex’s clothing. He raises an eyebrow. “What’s this?” 

“A disguise,” Alex says. “Your mother and sister are already in them. Pez is going to help me get you guys out of here and to the forest. June and Nora, too.”

Henry shakes his head. “I have to stay and fi––”

“You stay, you die,” Alex argues. “Raf agrees that this is what you have to do. It’s not good for anyone if you’re dead. Which you will be, by the way, if you decide to stay here.”

Henry wants to protest but, just as he’s about to open his mouth, Bea comes into the room already dressed in a commoner disguise of her own. 

“Hen,” she says from the doorway, looking nervous and terrified, “ _please_.”

“Bea,” Henry argues, “this is a ridiculous, cowardly plan. Philip would never––”

“Pip’s _dead_ ,” Bea huffs, clearly not in the mood for Henry’s self-defeating behavior tonight. “And you’re not him. You’re a good king––you actually want to help the kingdom. If you die, we’re doomed.”

Henry looks between them for a moment and sighs, giving up. “Fine,” he says.

Bea and Alex smile at each other. 

“Put your disguise on,” Bea says. “Their army is faster than we thought.”

Henry nods and watches as Bea leaves. She takes David with her, hiding him under her large cloak. Henry goes to take off his shirt before recalling that Alex is still in the room and that it would be extremely weird to undress in front of him now. 

“Could I have a moment of privacy?” Henry asks, eyebrow raised. 

Alex sits down at the large table, shaking his head. “Nope. I need to make sure you’re actually coming and I have to escort you through the tunnels to the forest. Also, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

Henry rolls his eyes but gets dressed, turning his back to Alex so his view is far more compromised. When he’s dressed, Alex leads him down to the dungeons and, from there, to a secret set of tunnels buried deep below the castle. Nora, June, Rafel, Bea, Pez, and his mother are all waiting for them when they arrive. Then, silently, they sneak through the tunnels and out of the citadel to the forest where, hopefully, the rest of the citizens are already waiting for further instruction. 

Even though Henry feels quite certain that they’ll be able to return soon and take back control of their kingdom, something about all of this makes him feel like it’s the last time he’ll be here. Though Camelot and the castle have never felt like a true home to him, it’s the only home he’s ever known. As he leaves it all behind, hopefully just for a few days as they regroup and make a plan, he wonders if he’ll be able to come back here again. Part of him thinks that he won’t be able to––that, no matter what they do, it won’t be enough to vanquish Mary and her soldiers. Another part of him wants to believe that they’ll soon return, though he’s having trouble really listening to that. Either way, things are different now. He’s not a prince or a king––he’s a man without a home. A man without a purpose for the time being.

When they arrive at the forest, a majority of Camelot’s population is waiting for him there. Alex has led them to a small clearing where, for some divine reason or another, there is a rock with a sword lodged into it. Henry stares at the object, baffled. 

“What are we doing here?” he asks Alex. 

“Bea said you’ve been having trouble believing in yourself as a king,” Alex shrugs. “I think this will help.” 

With one hand on Henry’s back, Alex moves him in front of the stone and the sword, but Henry is still confused.

“There’s a legend,” Alex explains, “that says that only the Once and Future King can pull that sword out of the stone.” 

Henry feels his face heat up. “So you’ve brought me here to humiliate me in front of my people?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “No. I brought you here so you can prove to yourself and your people that you’re a _good_ king, H. One of the best.” 

Henry opens his mouth to argue but, based on the look on Alex’s face, he thinks he should just stay quiet. It will be fine, he thinks, because the task itself is impossible. When he’s unable to pull the sword out, maybe the people will realize that he’s just a man and not some sort of god with the ability to do the extraordinary. He’ll try, though, just in case Alex is somehow right. 

With a deep, centering breath, he approaches the stone and extends his hand. He grips the hilt tightly, feeling the blade beneath his fingertips. It’s a magnificent weapon with a magical, golden hue. It seems familiar, he thinks, so maybe Alex is right––maybe he’s seen drawings of it in books of legends.

With all his strength, he attempts to pull the sword from the stone. It doesn’t budge. He turns to Alex, helpless. 

“You have to believe in yourself,” Alex tells him. 

Henry nods and focuses back on the sword. 

He looks up at the faces of the people of Camelot––the people watching him intently. They believe him to be a good king, he thinks. A good enough leader to follow here to the forest. His mother thinks he’s a good king––she raised him well when she was still a big part of his life. And she’s trying again, at least, which is something. Bea thinks he’s a good king––he sees it in her eyes whenever she smiles and tries to tell him that he’s enough. Pez thinks he’s a good king––he’s pledged to serve him until he can no longer hold a sword.

Alex…

Alex thinks he’s a good king. Despite everything that Henry has put him through since they first met, Alex still believes in him. Alex still trusts him and wants to protect him, even after Henry shut him out.

He closes his eyes and pulls again, expecting to feel the same restraint he felt before. 

This time, though, the sword comes free of its rocky prison. 

He stares at the full blade in his hand, rendered speechless by the sight of this miracle.

It must be true––he is the Once and Future King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	41. Three Words

Okay, so maybe Alex cheated a bit with the sword in the stone thing, but it feels completely fucking worth it when he sees the look on Henry’s face as the sword leaves the rock. It’s true, he knows, that Henry _is_ the Once and Future King and, also true, that Henry has never believed himself capable of holding such an important role in destiny. This little show, though, he convinced him. The look on his face is one of sheer awe and pride––it’s like he just needed some sort of magical sign to tell him what he’s probably known all along. Even if Henry still isn’t really speaking to him, Alex is over the fucking moon to see Henry look so happy for a change. That’s all he really wants for Henry––even if his heart is damn near broken. _Happiness_.

Henry’s newfound confidence leads him to plan an attack on the castle to get it back in control and cast the evil High Priestess out once and for all. Alex is only half paying attention because he knows that, no matter what happens, he’ll be by Henry’s side for the battle. They’re two sides of the same coin––inseparable. Even if Henry doesn’t want him there, Alex will stand by him until he can’t fucking stand anymore. Henry’s destiny may be to be the King of Camelot––the best king, at that––but Alex’s destiny is to protect him at all costs. And he’s not about to stop that now just because Henry won’t kiss him anymore. Or talk to him. Or look at him. 

It’s fine. 

It doesn’t matter.

“Alex?”

Alex blinks and looks across the bonfire. Henry’s eyes are on him––uncertain but still bluer than the Lake of Avalon.

“Sorry,” Alex mumbles, adjusting his position. “What’d you say?”

“I asked if you were okay going with Raf and June and Bea to tend to the wounded.”

Alex frowns. “What will you be doing?”

Henry is clearly at least a bit annoyed that Alex didn’t pay attention to his little plan where, Alex figures, he already went over this. “I’ll be with Pez and the knights. We’re fighting our way to the Throne Room.”

Alex nods. “Cool, sounds fun. Do I get a sword?” 

Henry glares at him from across the fire. The flames paint his face in the most gorgeous, dramatic golden hues. He doesn’t even look like a king right now––he looks like a fucking angel. 

“ _Alex_ ,” Henry warns, voice low.

“I think I should get a sword,” Alex protests, leaning back and folding his arms. “I mean, you’ll all have swords.” 

“Alex,” Henry says again, a bit louder this time. “Perhaps I could speak to you in private for a moment?” 

Alex shrugs, trying to play it cool even though his heart is thrumming in his eardrums. He gets up and follows Henry away from the bonfire and to the edge of the clearing, a bit in the treeline so they can’t be seen or overheard. As soon as they’re out of earshot of the rest of the group, Henry turns to Alex with a fire in his eyes that Alex hasn’t seen directed at him before. It makes his stomach sink to see it.

“Why are you so _infuriating_?” Henry asks. 

Alex gapes at him. “ _Me_? You’re the one trying to put me on the sidelines, H. You know I’m useful––haven’t I fucking proved that I can handle my own?”

Henry swipes a tired hand across his face. “Alex, I know you can handle yourself. You’ve saved me countless times.” 

Alex puts his hands on his hips. “So then why the fuck are you shunning me to physician duty?” 

“Because I can’t risk losing you!” Henry nearly shouts. 

Alex takes a step back, processing this. 

He thought––well, he doesn’t really know what he thought. That Henry hated him, maybe. That he was just some way for Henry to kill time until the coronation. He never thought that, somehow, Henry still felt something for him. Even now, in the face of it, he doesn’t know if he believes it. If Henry loves him, why did he stop talking to him? If Henry loves him, why are they doing this silly charade? If Henry loves him, why can’t they just be together?

“I––”

“This fight is going to be a massacre,” Henry whispers. “People are inevitably going to get hurt and die and I––I can’t let one of those people be you. I just can’t. So, _please_ , Alex, for once in your life, just do what you’re told.” 

Alex shakes his head. “No,” he says, putting his foot down on the subject. “It’s sweet of you, I guess, to be worried about me, but don’t you know how much worse it’ll be for me if I’m not with you for this? I’m gonna drive myself fucking crazy worrying about you if I’m not by your side.” 

Henry looks at him for a moment and, briefly, Alex thinks that Henry might just lean down and kiss him. 

He doesn’t. 

“Fine,” he concedes. “But if you get hurt, even just a bit, you’re out.” 

Alex extends a hand. “Deal.” 

The next morning, Alex finds himself in the forest right outside the castle as they all go over the plan one more time. The knights will run up through the lower town to check it out and, of course, defeat any enemies they encounter there. Once they’ve fought their way through the lower town, they’ll set fire to one of the many wheelbarrows of hay on the streets which will signal that the rest of the group can come in. Some of the townspeople are fighting in the second wave, and some are helping Raf treat the injured. For the most part, though, everyone is pitching in to help in any capacity they can––all eager to return to the lives they’ve known.

The presence of Mary’s army in the lower town is quite small. They’re all defeated fairly easily since, as Alex suspects, the real threats are within the castle walls. He follows closely behind Henry, his magic at the ready, as they make their way through the familiar streets of Camelot. It’s eerie to be back here now with the streets deserted or, in the case of the slaughtered soldiers, riddled with corpses. It’s even eerier to feel the pull of Mary’s strong, dark magic from within the castle. Her magic is thick and nauseating––it tastes like spoiled, burning vegetables as he inhales it. He thinks that it should smell sweeter, maybe, because it would be more enticing. How can anyone stomach using this kind of magic?

As predicted, the castle is where things get more problematic. While Henry’s back is turned as he fights a handful of Mary’s soldiers, Alex uses his magic to knock a torch off the wall and create a fiery wall between the soldiers and Henry. With the knights not that far behind, he and Henry make their way to the Throne Room, stopping for the occasional fight with a guard there. However, once they make it into the Throne Room, the doors slam shut behind them, preventing the knights from following them in.

It’s a trap, it seems. 

Alex should have seen it coming.

This time, Mary wastes no time. 

She plunges a sword into Henry’s side the moment they enter.

“Henry!” Alex screams, falling to his knees to catch Henry’s head before it can hit the floor. There’s blood all over his hands––the world is spinning around him. Somewhere in the distance, Mary cackles at her handiwork. Henry, already unconscious, is paling by the second. Alex mumbles a healing spell to keep the bleeding at bay, hopeful that he can get Henry to Raf in time to save him.

“I was wondering when you would use your talents,” Mary says.

Growling, Alex turns to face her with Henry’s head still in his lap. “It’s not a talent,” he snaps. “I was born with it.”

“I know,” Mary says. “And I also know that not even you can revive him from his injuries. This blade was forged in a dragon’s breath. No magic is great enough to conquer it.”

Alex looks at the blade in Henry’s hand and then back at Mary. “Not even you?”

“Quite so.”

In one swift motion, Alex summons the blade into his hand and leaps to his feet, attempting to kill Mary with the only blade that can vanquish her. She uses magic to dodge his attack, but he’s deeply committed to killing her right now and not even her gross, sickening magic can stop him. He growls and hits her with a spell of his one––one to immobilize her.

For a brief moment, he feels the power struggle between them. She’s fighting his magic with everything she can, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough. Mary went down the wrong path––she used her gifts to create chaos and fear. But Alex isn’t like her––Alex’s magic is born of love and light. It comes from his father who, for the brief time Alex knew him, loved him. It comes from his mother who wants so badly to protect him from everything in this world that could ever cause him harm. It comes from June and Liam and the days they spent in the fields in Austin, catching fairies and telling each other secrets. It comes from Nora and the way she doesn’t let him get away with anything and how she holds him accountable. Mostly, he thinks, it comes from Henry. It comes from a man who, despite everything keeping them apart, still loves Alex with every part of his being.

Alex’s magic––his love––is too strong for Mary to hold off. The spell holds and, as she stands there frozen and terrified, Alex plunges the sword into her chest.

“This was forged in a dragon’s breath,” he tells her, digging the sword deeper into her flesh.

Mary gasps before her body crumples to the ground; lifeless. 

Alex stares at it for a moment, his hands shaking.

“You did it,” Henry mumbles.

Alex drops the sword and goes back to Henry, checking his temperature pulse to see if he’s okay. His pulse his weak and he’s still paler than Alex would like him to be, but at least he’s conscious again.

“How do you feel?” Alex asks, gently moving a stray strand of hair from Henry’s forehead. 

Henry leans into the touch. “Like I’ve been stabbed,” he chuckles.

Alex rolls his eyes and cups Henry’s head in his hands, just looking at him for a moment. “We need to get you to Raf,” Alex says. 

Henry nods and lets Alex help him to his feet and guide him out of the room to Raf’s chambers where, hopefully, Raf will have a free moment to just make sure that Henry will be okay.

“Alex,” Raf says. 

It’s been a few minutes since they got to Raf’s chambers and Henry and Raf have been in Alex’s room the whole time. Alex was explicitly told not to go inside so he waited impatiently outside the door.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

Raf shakes his head. “There’s a piece of the blade embedded in his chest,” he explains. “I can’t remove it and it looks like it’s traveling towards his heart.”

“Like with Sir Basil?” Alex asks, recalling the magical sword the man used to try to kill Henry in that tournament so long ago. 

Raf nods.

“What do we do?” 

“It’s risky,” Raf sighs, “but you could take him to the Lake of Avalon.”

Alex hums as he thinks about the logistics of such a daring quest. “Will he even make it in time?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he admits.

“We have to try,” Alex insists.

So Alex and Henry take two horses from the stables and begin their journey to the Lake of Avalon, stopping only when night approaches. Henry is silent as he rides, obviously in pain. When Alex tries to feed him soup, Henry dismisses him and groans as he leans back against a fallen tree. 

“You have to eat,” Alex tells him.

“What if she’s still here?”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “Who?” 

“Mary,” Henry explains. “What if it was a trick? It seemed…too easy.” 

Alex shrugs. “It was a trap,” he offers. “She got what she wanted––you hurt and on the brink of death. I’m just happy she doesn’t have better aim.” 

He tries to feed Henry soup again but Henry swats his hand away. “How did you know?”

Alex cocks his head. 

“How did you know that my blade would kill her?”

Alex feels his stomach sink. “Lucky guess.” 

“And the wall of fire that cut us off from her guards?”

“The wind must’ve knocked the torch off,” Alex offers.

He feels Henry’s eyes burning into him, even as he turns to put the soup back over the fire to keep it warm.

“I should be dead,” Henry says. “The injury…I shouldn’t still be alive.” 

“Raf’s a good healer.” 

“Raf didn’t do anything! He just wrapped me in a bandage. Alex, I need you to tell me the truth.”

It’s a moment he’s thought about a million times––telling Henry that he has magic. He never thought it would be like this, though. He never thought it would be because Henry was on the brink of death or because he wouldn’t just shut up and eat his soup. He never thought it would be Henry accusing him of it––he always thought he’d be able to tell him in his own words and on his own time. But time is running out for them and, if this is the last chance Alex has to tell him the truth, he wants to do it right.

“I have magic,” he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long! 
> 
> as always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr


	42. Something I've Never Said to You Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter  
> (not including the epilogue)

A tense silence falls over them––all they can hear is the crackling of the fire. Henry’s eyes are wide as he tries to process this information. It’s too much for him to handle––this has been _ages_ of Alex lying straight to his face. With every touch the two have shared, every kiss, Alex lied. It seems entirely possible that, this whole time, Henry was under some sort of spell. Perhaps Alex isn’t actually as attractive as Henry perceives him to be––how could anyone be as dazzling as Alex without magic? The intense, all-consuming love Henry feels for him must be part of some sort of spell, too. No one could feel a love this deep and infinite without the use of dark magic or potions. What did Alex have to give away to create such a powerful spell? His soul? Henry’s? Either way, Henry has no idea what to say or do at this moment. He doesn’t even know what to think––all he knows is that he’s in danger.

He tries to get up but his body is too weak. He groans and Alex helps set him back down against the fallen tree, getting their supply of water and trying to hand it to Henry. Henry stares at the vile container as he wonders what sort of poison Alex has put inside of it. This is, perhaps, where the love potion is kept.

“ _Please_ ,” Alex begs, “just say something.”

Henry averts his gaze––looks anywhere but the enticing brown of Alex’s big eyes.

Alex sets the water down and sighs, curling his knees up into his chest. “I should have told you,” he admits. “I know. But I…I only used it for you, H. Only to save you and protect you so you can become the King you’re destined to be.”

Henry swallows a lump in his throat, still unsure of how to move forward with this. How can he possibly manage to say all of the thoughts that are bubbling up inside of him right now? How can he filter through all of the questions bouncing around his head and ask only the ones that are truly important?

“Born or taught?” he asks, his voice filled with too much emotion. He clears his throat and waits for his answer.

“I––What?” 

“Born,” Henry repeats, “or taught?”

“Uh, born. Born.”

Henry hums and leans back a bit, still processing. He doesn’t know which answer he would have preferred, honestly. If Alex was taught these abilities, maybe Henry could have someone to blame for all of this. He could go to the person who told Alex that magic could and should be used and he could beat them senseless and feel some sense of justification and closure for all of this. If Alex had been taught, Henry could explain that magic isn’t a solution and that he’ll protect him from the evil thing for the rest of his life. But, as it turns out, Alex wasn’t taught magic. Alex was born with magic and that, Henry now realizes, makes this all a lot harder.

He tries to think all of this through in some sort of logical fashion. Things people are born as or with are completely out of their control, he supposes, just like how his interest in men was out of control. He wouldn’t want to be blamed for something beyond his control––for the very thing that pulses and thrums under his skin. But he’s been brought up being told that magic, of ay kind, is evil. His sexual preferences don’t kill people––magic _does_. It’s what he’s been raised to know and believe. And yet, sat before him is the kindest, most loving man he’s ever known. A man who, as it turns out, has magic. Henry tries to think about everything he’s been told over the years about the subject––about how all those who practice magic are evil and cunning and manipulative. They mess with the world in a way that Henry and his family––or anyone without magic, really––could never begin to understand or agree with. Philip believed, until his dying breath, that magic was evil. His father…  
His father always found the good in people.

Henry thinks that, just maybe, he’s been looking at this all wrong. If his father traded his own life for Henry’s using magic, maybe he didn’t see the evil in it. If his father knew, going in, what would happen and did it anyway, maybe it meant that his father believed that magic was good. Maybe it means that, in this moment, Henry should stop trying to be like Philip and try to be more like his father.

Still, there are more questions on his mind. “And you never told me? All this time, you never told me the truth?”

“You’re mad I didn’t tell you?”

“Of course I’m bloody mad!” Henry shouts. There are tears stinging his eyes but he isn’t quite sure why. “Christ, Alex, you should have told me before we kissed for the first time! You should have told me before I let you into my heart.”

“And what would you have done? Huh? If I told you?”

Henry opens his mouth but then quickly closes it again. “I––I don’t know.”

Alex scoffs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. If I didn’t think you’d kill me, I’d have told you.”

Henry glares at him. He wants to protest that he wouldn’t have killed Alex, but he doesn’t know if that’s true. He doesn’t know if it’s true because it’s hard for him to accept that the love of his life possesses the one quality that has taken so much away from him. It took his father and, with that, his mother. It had a hand in taking Philip, he thinks, and certainly in everything that’s happened with Mary. It’s almost killed Alex a few times, if he recalls correctly, and yet…

Alex is _good_. He has a good heart. He’s passionate and driven and thoughtful and loving. He’s a bit stubborn and cranky at times, but never truly cruel. Henry can’t picture Alex using his magic to harm anyone for no reason.

He opens his mouth but all that escapes is a moan as the pain in his side increases tenfold. Alex’s arms are around him in instant, trying to help him in any way that he can. With magic, maybe.

“Heal me,” Henry says, deciding that this will be a lot easier to talk about when he doesn’t feel like he’s dying.

Alex shakes his head. “I can’t.” 

“You’ve been using magic on me the whole bloody time behind my back,” Henry argues. “Now I’m _asking_ you to use it and you won’t?”

Alex hangs his head in defeat. “I already tried,” he admits. “It didn’t…the blade is too powerful, even for me. The only thing that can save you now is the Lake of Avalon.”

“Then let’s get moving,” Henry insists. He tries to sit up again but the pain gets white-hot and forces him back down. 

“You can’t even move,” Alex says. He doesn’t sound angry––he just sounds terrified.

Henry is reminded of the time that Alex drank that poison for him. He’s reminded of the time he had to watch Alex’s body fall limply to the ground and how there was nothing Henry could do to help him in that one, awful, terrible moment. He can’t even imagine what this must be like for Alex. He has the power to help Henry but he can’t.

“I have an idea,” Alex offers. “You’re not gonna like it.”

That’s how, five minutes later, Henry finds himself on the back of the Great Dragon as it soars through the air. He holds on for dear life, still trying to figure out how Alex can summon a bloody _dragon_. There was a language he spoke before the beast came, so Henry figures it must be some sort of enchantment.

“This is a gift from my father,” Alex tells him.

Henry’s losing too much blood to really process his words. He just raises an eyebrow, not sure if he can find the strength to speak right now.  
“When we went to find that dragonlord,” Alex explains, “we were actually looking for my father. He was the last dragonlord at the time and when one dies, that gift is passed down to their son.”

Henry flinches as he recalls this memory under a new light. The way that Alex held the man in his arms––the way he cried so hard for a man they hardly even knew. “I told you that he wasn’t worth your tears,” Henry recalls. 

Alex nods. “You didn’t know.”

Henry shakes his head, not allowing himself to be forgiven so easily for such a shitty remark, even if he didn’t know the whole truth at the time. “I wouldn’t.”

Alex stares at him blankly, obviously confused.

“I wouldn’t have killed you,” Henry admits. “If you told me about your magic sooner. When I was still King.”

Alex smiles weakly at him. “We’ll be there soon.”

The next thing Henry knows, Alex is helping him off the dragon’s back. He must’ve fallen asleep shortly after Alex told him they’d be here soon.  
“Come on,” Alex says, trying to help him to the shoreline.

Henry shakes his head. He knows that this is it––he can feel it coming.

It’s funny to him that, despite all of the attempts on his life, he’s never actually pondered what it would be like to die. After his father died, the thought of dying and seeing him again someday made his heart soar and race in his chest. After he met Alex, though, everything changed. Suddenly, he had a reason to live again. Now, inn Alex’s arms as Alex drags him to the shore of this lake, Henry doesn’t know how to feel. It’s his time, he thinks, and he isn’t sure if he’s okay with that. His father and Philip wait eagerly for him on the other side, but Alex is still here and alive and as beautiful as ever. If he has any say in this matter, he thinks he wants to live. For Alex. For love. 

He just doesn’t think it’s his choice to make anymore.

“Please,” he groans, “just…leave me.” 

Alex shakes his head and pulls Henry toward the water again, more determined this time. “We’re so close, H. Just a few more minutes and––”

“I…” Henry says, stopping when another pang of pain erupts through his side. It’s closer to his heart now––he feels it moving inside of him. “I want to say something. Something I’ve never said to you before.”

Henry collapses, though he’s still conscious, and Alex is there to catch him. They sit on the hillside leading down to the water with Henry’s head in Alex’s lap. The sun pokes through the clouds above them––the first of the morning light. It’s a gorgeous sight, but not as beautiful as Alex’s eyes or his curls or that smug smile he makes when he can get Henry to laugh.

“Don’t,” Alex whispers. It’s a plea, he thinks, but for what? For him to stop talking? For him to keep trying to hold on? 

With a heavy, shaking hand, Henry cups the side of Alex’s jaw. “I love you,” he tells him.

They’re the last words he ever says.

As his eyes close for the last time, he smiles to himself because he knows that he chose some damn good words to go out with. 

_I love you_.

Then it all fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, the end of the line! sort of. I'm gonna post an epilogue hopefully tonight if not very soon.
> 
> as always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is a crack ending for you. 
> 
> Good tidings to you all. 
> 
> I am on crack.
> 
> It's chill. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Today marks the first year anniversary of the King’s death. It is, also, a celebration of sorts. Though it is the day that the King passed, it is also the day that marks the freedom of magic in Camelot. Once, the land banned magic in its entirety. Magic had hurt so many, especially in the eyes of King Philip, so it was decreed that magic would no longer be welcomed in Camelot. It is both ridiculous and impossible to claim to rid even a small area of magic, for magic is the lifeblood that holds the world together. Without magic, the world is shrouded in darkness and evil without hope of ever recovering. So, despite King Philip’s best efforts, magic now flourishes in the streets of Camelot. And the greatest warlock of all time, though he may not know of it yet, is in big trouble.

This man, this warlock, has conquered many beasts before. He’s taken on evil High Priestesses, enchanted blades, dragons, bandits, and, most recently, the death of the person he loved most in the world. None of this, of course, compares to the sheer amount of courage and bravery he’ll have to summon to face this newest threat: his late arrival to the Council Meeting.

He’s always running late these days––it’s a side effect of seeing the love of his life die before his very eyes. But, thankfully, the new ruler understands this and has been exceedingly patient with him while he adjusts to his new life in Camelot. He’s not a servant anymore––there’s no prince left to serve. It’s probably for the best, though, considering he was a terrible, terrible servant to begin with. 

There’s a knock on his door. He turns the wrong way at first, still getting used to these new chambers that the Crown set him up with. But, when he finally looks in the right direction, he sees Pez standing in his doorway with a smug smile on his face. 

“You’re late again,” Pez tells him.

Alex rolls his eyes. “Is it…”

“Yeah, they’re mad,” he finishes, still smiling. 

Alex huffs but starts making his way to the door. “You’d think that they could manage one fucking meeting without me. I don’t even do anything! Court Sorcerer…that’s not a real thing and we both know it.” 

Pez shrugs but leads the way down to the Throne Room where, apparently, everyone is expecting his arrival. He adjusts the stupid, pointy hat on his head––the “official uniform” of his new position––and quietly mumbles and grumbles about the stupidity of his title and his lack of a role on his way down to the meeting. The pointy hat was just fucking cruel of them. Some sort of joke, he thinks. He doesn’t get it. Sorcerers don’t wear hats. Neither do witches, actually, despite what everyone thinks. Just ask Mary. 

When he gets to the Throne Room, everyone goes silent as he silently takes his place at the round table. He mumbles his apologies and watches as everyone carries on talking about some sort of new system they’re working on for rations or something which, to his earlier statement, has nothing to do with him at all. He could be sleeping right now. He could be taking care of Henry’s dog. 

There’s a hand on his knee––he hadn’t realized he was bouncing it. 

“You’re late,” the person tells him in a whisper.

“Fuck off. It’s the hat. It slows me down.”

“I’ll have to see to it that you’re punished later.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How very kinky, Your Royal Highness.” 

The hand on his knee gets aggressively tighter. “I could very well throw you in the dungeons, you know.” 

He shrugs. “Yeah, well, I could just use magic to bust my way out of there. I am the Court Sorcerer, after all.”

He grins but, unfortunately, the person does not seem to find him funny. 

“You really need to get over yourself. It’s been a year.” 

Alex frowns and winces at the memory. “You weren’t there,” he snaps, still whispering. “You don’t know how it felt to have the love of my life die in my fucking arms.” 

The person rolls their eyes at him. “We both know that, not even a week later, everything was sorted.” 

Alex huffs, still mad and upset about the visions that flash before his eyes when he remembers what happened a year ago today. “I miss him,” he admits, voice soft. “So fucking much.”

“As I’ve told you before,” the person tells him, “I’m right here.”

Alex grins and nuzzles into his side. “Yeah,” he sighs, “you are. Thanks for sucking at being dead, by the way.” 

Henry shrugs and the crown on his head moves down his forehead a bit with the movement. “They did say I would rise when I was most needed,” he says. “It was the universe’s way of letting me know you loved me back.”

Alex playfully hits his arm. “You died before I could tell you, you ass. Now listen to Raf––I’m sure he’s saying something _very_ important.” 

Alex fake pays attention for exactly two seconds before Henry is back by his ear. “Whatever you say, Court Sorcerer.”

Alex puts his hand in the air. “I’d like to say, for the record, that I will be cursing the _fuck _out of the King tonight. So, like, if there’s a pompous frog hopping around here tomorrow, you know why.”__

__The Council rolls their eyes at him, all too used to the new dynamic between King Henry and his Court Sorcerer._ _

__Henry kisses his cheek. “I was rather hoping you could cast a binding spell on me instead,” he whispers._ _

__Alex feels his face go pink. “We’d also like to be excused.”_ _

__It’s a warm summer’s day and there’s a feeling of happiness and celebration in the air. It’s been six years since Philip began his war on magic but, this time, they won’t be celebrating that––they’ll be celebrating a new reign. A fair and just ruler who respects people who have or practice magic just as they would any other person in the kingdom. It’s the reign of the Once and Future King and, of course, his lovely (and still annoyed about his hat) Court Sorcerer._ _

__And, finally, the land knew peace._ _

__Apart from the Council who had to put up with many meetings being cut short due to the nonstop flirting between the two of them._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this crazy chapter brings us to the end of this fic. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! You're all lovely and I adore you!
> 
> <3 biblio the sentimental soph

**Author's Note:**

> as always, i'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr!


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